


Out of the Wreckage

by eosaurora13



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Agent Hill is going to be awesome, Alzheimer's Disease, Angst, Brainwashing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Hydra's gone nowhere, M/M, Memories, Memory Loss, Pepper's going to be awesome, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Psychological Torture, Steve and Bucky angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 45
Words: 97,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1536296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eosaurora13/pseuds/eosaurora13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the helicarriers crash into the Potomac, Steve discovers more about the Winter Soldier while what's left of Bucky wanders Washington D.C., trying to remember the man he saved.  Everyone else tries to help them pick up the pieces.  </p>
<p>Except there's a lot more to what happened to Bucky than anyone realized and Hydra is willing to do whatever it takes to get him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They called him the Asset. No other name besides that. For seventy years, Sergeant James Barnes had no name. They called him “it.” Whether they did it because he had no humanity left or because it subtly reminded him every time he woke from cryo that he was nobody, he never knew. Whatever reason, it worked. The Asset never fought back and the last vestiges of the man he used to be were swept under the rug.

To hear someone give him a name, any name, forced the Asset to feel, especially the name the man gave him. “James Buchanan Barnes,” he said. That name meant something to the Asset. It floated in the corner of his peripheral vision but every time he turned toward it, it vanished. It infuriated him and opened a chasm to a deep despair he hadn’t known he had. Such feelings his handlers had beaten and electrocuted out of him. Emotions were so foreign a concept to the Asset’s blank mind that when they did emerge, he feared them, feared what his handlers would do because he’d had them, and he reacted to that fear like a feral animal. He lashed out, violent and desperate. Getting away, stopping the man from saying anything else, that’s what he had to do.

But the man wouldn’t stop, would not die. He kept talking, kept saying things. No called the Asset a friend. No one dropped their weapons and gave the Asset free reign to attack like he did. A corner of his mind, a part long buried under torture and time, understood how wrong this was, which only fueled the hatred and frustration. He pummeled the man to the verge of unconsciousness but still words left his mouth, drilled holes into the Asset.

“Then finish it,” the man gritted out, his face bloody and bruised, contorted in pain. “Cuz I’m with you to the end of the line.” 

Memories stirred in that buried corner. A solemn afternoon outside the shanty Steve called home. Those were his words, handed back to him with a devotion only Steve could have.

He stared down at the man. No, no, God no. His arm, pulled back for the final blow, froze.

What had he done?

Horror washed through him. This man he was supposed to protect. How had he done this?

The man, his target, finally lost consciousness when the Asset realized he needed the man awake. But his target’s face relaxed; for him, the world was at peace.

When the world fell out from under them, the Asset latched on to a metal beam. Hanging precariously above the river, he stared down at the hail of falling debris and the man falling amongst it. The bottom of his stomach hollowed out, as if he was falling, not the man. A voice, the barest glimpse of a memory called out for him. No, the voice called out for Bucky.

He wasn’t Bucky.

But in that moment, if it meant he could save the man—Steve, he remembered the man’s name was Steve—he had to try.

The Potomac’s waters were cold but physical discomfort he tucked aside. Only the urgency to reach his target remained. That was all that mattered. 

Relief, sweet blessed relief, coursed in his veins when his metal fingers latched onto the blue uniform. He dragged the man out of the water and deposited him on shore, none too gracefully. Panic set in when the man, still breathing, shifted. Saving him felt right in a way that nothing else he could remember did but the Asset couldn’t face him, not with the turbulent storm of emotions he’d unleashed. 

Hints of memories, more feelings than images, plagued him, begging to be remembered. Before he could deal with anything, he had to remember. With one last glance, he walked off through the shrubbery, feeling like he was leaving himself behind on the river’s shore.

***

Steve woke up to music and sunlight. His eyes flickered open but he shut them almost instantly again. The light was a bit bright. And the music was a little loud. It wasn’t a song he recognized but when he turned his head to the right, he saw Sam and he smiled. Sam’s face was riddled with cuts and bruises but it was nothing compared to what Steve knew his face looked like. Bucky had punched the daylights out of him and now he felt well and truly tenderized.

Still, he managed to quip, “On your left,” loud enough to wake Sam up. 

Sam saw his friend was awake and smiling and smiled back. “Took you long enough. Thought I was gonna have to turn the music up louder.”

“Yeah, I came to just to tell you to turn it down.” Steve leaned back against the pillows and groaned. Everything hurt. Multiple gun shot wounds and stab wounds tended to cause that.

“You gotta take it easy, man. You’re awful torn up.”

Steve laughed and immediately regretted it. A sharp pain lanced up his side from his gut. 

Sam kept smiling but his brow wrinkled in concern. “See? I told ya.”

The song eased into something slower, quieter, and Steve looked out the window, letting the music and warmth wash over him. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing but he couldn’t sleep. The events on the helicarrier wouldn’t leave him alone. He kept replaying them. Every punch, every dodge. Every fall. Every time Bucky’s knife cut through his uniform and found skin or every time Bucky shot him. He had always been a crack shot, the best in the Howling Commandos, the one Steve had trusted to watch his back behind a sniper rifle. He catalogued every expression on Bucky’s face, the pain, the anger. The helplessness he saw when Bucky had been crushed still sent Steve’s heart racing. He felt his fists curl at his sides.

Bucky was still in there. Those eyes that first looked at him on the catwalk, so cold, so unknowing, had had no emotion but Steve saw how emotion ripped through whatever torture and training HYDRA had subjected his friend to as they fought, as he spoke to him. Anger was better than a blank slate. True, he’d suffered for it but, for Bucky, it was worth it. 

And he was alive. Vaguely, he remembered falling into the river, surrounded by the wreckage of the helicarrier. He had been in no shape to swim to shore on his own and he’d sunk too deep to be rescued. No one would have known he was in the water.

No one, save Bucky.

And that knowledge alone gave Steve hope. Because the Winter Soldier would not have risked his life, injured as he was, to save Steve. Only Bucky would have done that.

He’d failed Bucky once. On the train in the Alps, zooming through the snow at speeds no human should ever travel, he hadn’t been fast enough or strong enough to save his friend. For seventy years, Bucky suffered because Captain America had failed. Steve wasn’t going to fail Bucky again.

His body needed time to heal though and when sleep crept up on him, he succumbed to it without much of a fight.

***

Steve doesn’t pursue any leads, doesn’t have any leads to pursue, for the next few weeks. The aftermath of the helicarrier incident brought down hellfire from the press, from other branches of the government, even from parts of the public. Natasha took care of everything, made all of the public appearances. She had a way with words and can win people over or scare them into supporting her. And she did it all with a shit-eating smirk on her face. It was time Steve hated wasting but he couldn’t afford to dig into the Winter Soldier while the public eye was scrutinizing his every move.

Those weeks he spent in the gym or running with Sam, though he still couldn’t find it in him to call what Sam did “running.” And Sam, being Sam, always gave him shit about it. His body healed far more slowly than he liked and sometimes he ran alongside Sam instead of blowing past him. Those days, Sam jabbed at him for being old and decrepit but his concern underneath those taunts was genuine. 

He only visited the museum exhibit at the Smithsonian once during those weeks. Sam volunteered to go with him but Steve deflected, saying he needed some time to himself. 

Since the release of SHIELD’s data, a good many things had gone public. The identity of the Winter Soldier was one of them. Of course, HYDRA’s files regarding his training and torture had been released as well. Some people cared. Some didn’t. Steve hadn’t expected the massive influx of people at the exhibit. The crowds around each display were massive, almost living entities in themselves. He found a secluded spot off to the side, where he could see most of the exhibit but wouldn’t be in the way.

After a few snide remarks about Bucky sent his blood boiling, he almost left. But there was one kid, one girl. She might have been eight years old, dressed all in pink, a captain America plushie tucked up under one arm. She looked up at the display about Bucky and turned to her parents. “Why did Bucky hurt his friend? Best friends don’t hurt each other.”

The girl’s father crouched to her level and explained that bad people found Bucky and made him do bad things. She still looked upset so her father hugged her. Tears welled up in Steve’s eyes as the father told his daughter that Bucky had saved his friend’s life from the helicarrier. “I don’t think the sergeant is a bad guy, sweetie. And sooner or later, Captain America will bring him home. Can you believe that for me?” 

The little girl nodded and clutched her doll that much closer.

Steve couldn’t breathe. The walls seemed to close in around him and he shouldered his way through the crowd. Once out in the main hall, he breathed easier. The little girl’s words and the response of her father affected him in ways he hadn’t expected. A vast majority of the public had reached out in support of Captain America and expressed their sympathies for what happened to Sergeant Barnes but Steve hadn’t encountered that sentiment on such an intimate level.

The museum suddenly held nothing of value and he strode through its door, resolving never to go back. This was the future and he had things to do.

***

Sam had a sixth sense when it came to Steve. When Steve walked into the kitchen, his face red and his eyes puffy, Sam didn’t say anything. He pulled out the leftover pizza from the fridge and plopped the remaining slices onto a plate. Steve took the plate from him as they walked into the cozy living room that Sam had converted into a movie room because, let’s be honest, most of what they did was catch Steve up on classic movies. And Sam knew just what movie to put in. Something distracting but also didn’t require a lot of brainpower.

Jurassic Park.

He held the case up for Steve’s approval. All he got was a twitch of the lips but that was enough. The Blu-ray player happily ate the disc and the menu popped on the screen as Sam sat down. Neither said a word for the whole movie. Steve smiled at some of Malcolm’s quirks so Sam called it a win. 

He didn’t break the silence until the credits rolled. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about,” Steve replied quietly.

Sam sighed and, standing, he grabbed Steve’s dirty dishes. “You gotta talk about eventually, man. It’s like I tell the folks at the VA—keeping it in just hurts you.”

“I know what I’m doing, Sam.” Steve’s voice took a hard edge, one that didn’t quite signal Sam needed to stop prying but it was a warning they were heading that way.

Sam eyed his friend. Steve had dark circles under his eyes and some nights he woke up, crying out for someone he couldn’t save. Yes, Sam was concerned but when Steve shut down, there wasn’t much he could do. He walked into the kitchen and deposited the dishes in the sink, muttering, “Sure you do.”

They continued dancing around what Steve didn’t want to talk about until Natasha put down the yokels on Capitol Hill for good. And she had dug up information, old information, about the origins of the Winter Soldier.

Nat handed him the slim file. The writing on the cover was Russian. Sam had a feeling as Steve flipped through the pages, his shoulders tensing, that he’d better learn Russian. Soon.

“You sure you wanna do this, Steve?” she asked. “That might not be a cord you want to pull on.” It was a warning Sam hadn’t voiced. Nat was better at that anyway.

As she walked away, he asked, “You’re going after him, aren’t you?” He didn't have to specify who "him" was. They both knew.

“You don’t have to come with me, Sam.” Steve didn’t look up from the file. His knuckles turned white, he clutched the edges so tightly.

Sam smiled a not-so-nice smile. He’d be damned if he let Captain America run off to God knows what end of the earth alone. “Bullshit. When do we start?”

Steve shared that smile. “Right now. Pack your bags. We’re going to Kiev.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky struggles with nightmares in DC while Kiev offers unwanted surprises.

The Asset struggled those first few days after pulling his target from the water. He disposed of his armor and weapons, except for his knife, throwing everything into the river. Nights in the city as autumn kicked into high gear were not kind to a man, or what was left of a man, in cargo pants and a long-sleeved shirt so thin it felt like he didn’t have one on every time the wind blew. 

He explored the city, desperate for better clothes. With no money and no friends, he resorted to digging through dumpsters and tearing open bags of donations to the Salvation Army. Changing into jeans and a thicker shirt, one that hid his arm from prying or judging eyes, he grabbed a jacket and a sweatshirt. He fought a homeless man for scraps when the gnawing in his stomach caused physical pain. Guilt only crept into his mind as he walked away. He dropped the food, dropped to his knees and threw up. 

After that, he avoided the alleys and overpasses with people. Even without weapons, he hurt people. Maybe that’s all he was, all he had been—a weapon.

Sleep wasn’t kind to him when finally his body screamed for a reprieve. After the years in cryo, he had forgotten what sleep felt like or that he even needed to sleep. His body could stand up to a week with no breaks. He’d been on the run for longer than that. When he could no longer keep going, he found cover in a cardboard box and fell asleep quickly. But a brain that hadn’t been able to dream for seventy years took the first opportunity presented and ran with it. A brain that had been subjected to the level of torture the Asset’s had dealt with that trauma through nightmares.

He heard voices, voices of people whose names he never knew. His handlers. Mostly he heard a soft-spoken voice whispering damnations in the back of his mind. That voice was never raised, still he feared it, feared what it told him. “You’re no one,” it whispered. “Only a weapon. Why have you run? We will find you.”

The scream that tore from his throat woke him up. He sat up and wrapped his jacket tighter around him. His breath came in ragged gasps. 

Fear.

Complete, paralyzing fear.

He added the emotion to the list he never wanted to feel again. As his heart slowed to a more normal rate, he glanced around to see if anyone had heard him. Night still had the city in her grasp. If anyone had heard him, they hadn’t bothered to check on him. That only cemented in his mind how little he mattered.

His body still needed sleep and as much as he fought the drowsiness threatening to engulf him, he succumbed to it. The voice returned and resumed its horrible whispers. He tossed in his sleep, desperate to get away, but in dreams, escape was impossible.

In that fear, a little more of the dust and scars over what had been someone else cleared away. The voice faded, screaming as it did, into a memory. The Asset slipped into the memory like he belonged there. 

It was night and throngs of people bustled around. Clothes, hair, and makeup were all different from those he had seen the past weeks. It was a different time, a different lifetime almost. Two girls had latched themselves to his arms, his flesh and blood arms, but he was looking for someone else. In the back of his mind, he knew who he was looking for was the man on the helicarrier but, when he found him at the enlistment station, the shock of how thin and frail he looked almost woke the Asset from the dream.

Steve Rogers defiantly matched his protests about enlisting, one after the other. He was glad the dames had stayed outside. The way Steve put him in his place was almost embarrassing, almost as embarrassing as how quickly he capitulated to his friend’s argument. It was one they’d had many times before, with Steve getting angrier and more disillusioned each time they had it.

And now he was leaving, leaving this kid to his own devices, and his heart broke. He knew, as they hugged, that they wouldn’t see each other again.

When the Asset woke again, this time to the rising sun, his face was wet with tears.

***

The flight to Kiev was uneventful. Not that anything should have happened but Steve was so on edge, having something happen might have been beneficial. Just for a release of energy. Sam had taken care of transportation and hotel arrangements so getting a rental car and driving to the hotel also did not provide any relief.

Steve didn’t feel much like talking either. The edges of the pages in the file were worn down with how many times he had flipped through them. Now, when he stared at the words, they didn’t register. Everything he could have read, he had. He didn’t flip through now to glean any new information, but to remind himself of what he was doing, and who he was doing it for.

Once they’d settled into the hotel room, a cozy little room with only one twin bed, and unpacked the few changes of clothes they’d brought, Sam practically shoved Steve out the door for a run. Anything to burn off the manic energy that escaped in twitches and bouncing feet.

Neither of them were as well known in the Ukraine as in the US so very few people accosted them on their run. For safety’s sake more than anything, Steve kept to Sam’s pace and he was so tense, Sam didn’t throw out his usual taunts.

The first night they fought over who had to sleep on the bed. Sam relented fairly quickly though he still grumbled as they turned the lights out. The bed was too damn soft. At some point in the night, Steve woke from a dream and found Sam laid out on another section of floor, a pillow tucked under his head. Times like that helped Steve because he knew he wasn’t alone.

They left the hotel early the next morning, following leads in Steve’s file. Natasha had earmarked the names of certain government officials with “corrupt”. Steve thought they’d try those first.

After a day of dealing with slimy politicians, and really the prototype translator Stark let them borrow worked amazingly well, Steve wanted to take a daylong shower. Each person they’d interviewed—and interviewed was a very loose term by anyone’s standards—had given them a little more information until they had the location of an old KGB base. Zola hadn’t been wrong nor had he understated the influence of HYDRA over the years.

What they found inside chilled them. The base had been cleared in a hurry and a lot of equipment and unclassified files littered the floor. Sam scanned some of the documents with the translator but none of them offered any new or pertinent information. They searched through desk drawers and filing cabinets but nothing caught their eye.

It was well into the night when they discovered the block of cells in the back of the complex. That’s when things got interesting. Sam found a record of one of the people held prisoner in the cell. Nowhere in the record did they mention him by name. And, well, Sam assumed it was a he. They only referred to him as the Asset. 

Sam walked back to where he’d left Steve. “Hey, man, check out what-“ He paused when he saw Steve standing over a broken cryo stasis chamber. The glass window about head height was cracked and fractured, the metal rusted with age. 

“He was caged like an animal. They couldn’t control him so they put him in a cage.” The anger in Steve’s voice was a physical entity that stirred in the dust and cobwebs. Steve shook with it. “I couldn’t save him and look what happened.” He fell to his knees and ran his fingers over the glass.

Sam stood beside him. “I don’t know what I’d do if I were in your position, Cap, if Riley suddenly came back tomorrow an international assassin with no memory. What happened here, you can’t change. You couldn’t have known that he survived that fall. But he is out there, you know he’s out there, and you can help him now.”

Steve rubbed a hand over is face. “Not sure I know how to do that.”

“You grew up with this guy, right? You fought in the war together?” Steve nodded. “Then when you have to help him, you’ll know what to do.”

Steve turned from the stasis chamber. “How can you be so sure? A few weeks ago you thought I’d have to kill him.”

Sam shrugged. “Hey, I didn’t pull you from the river. That was all him. There’s gotta be something in there worth saving. If you believe it, you know I’m with you.” He reached a hand down to help Steve up. Steve took one last look around and strode out, leaving Sam to follow behind, the journal still in his hand. They’d look at that in the hotel. He had a sinking feeling the Asset was referring to Barnes. That did not bode well for anyone.

When they arrived at their room, Steve threw the hotel key on the dresser as Sam followed him inside and locked the door behind them. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall. 

It was a stare Sam knew too well. He knew he’d done the same after losing Riley. Keeping an eye on his friend, Sam slid out of his jacket and threw it over the chair.

The journal slipped from its home in Sam’s jacket pocket onto the floor. Sam tried to pick it up and remove it from sight before Steve fixated on it but Steve was too fast for Sam.

“What’s that?” he asked. There was no emotion in his voice at all.

“It’s nothing that can’t wait til tomorrow. Leave it.” Sam desperately tried to ward Steve off. Cap didn’t need to read what the journal contained, not after seeing what he had at the old base.

“Sam, what is it?”

“It’s something I found at the base, ok?” Sam tensed, ready for Steve to fight him. The reaction he got concerned him far more.

Steve looked from the journal to Sam with hollow eyes. “You don’t think I should look at it yet.” Sam shook his head and, for once, Steve capitulated. “Fine, we’ll leave it for now.” 

Warning bells rang in Sam’s mind but there wasn’t much he could do. As they settled down for the night, both on the floor again, Sam shifted into standby mode and waited for Steve to make his move.

He didn’t have long to wait. Not five minutes after he purposefully evened out his breathing, Steve rose quietly, grabbed the journal, and left the hotel room. Damn, stupid, stubborn son of a bitch.

It wasn’t until he’d followed Steve down a narrow alley that he realized they were both being followed. Steve backed into a nook and waited for Sam. Sam ducked into the same nook.

“You know we’re being followed right?”

Steve nodded. “Three guys that I could see. Two in front, one behind.” He held the journal up. “Whatever is in this, it’s hot. HYDRA still wants it. Badly. What is it?”

Deciding it was not a good time to lie, Sam admitted, “I think it’s about your friend. I couldn’t find his name mentioned but it didn’t make sense referring to anyone else.”

“Bad?”

Sam glanced out into the alley. “You could say that,” he muttered. He scanned the alley but their tails had disappeared. Something was really wrong here. “Ever get the feeling you’re playing into someone’s hand?”

Steve slung his shield from his back onto his arm. “All the time.”

“Guessing we shouldn’t expect back-up?”

They commiserated in their exasperation before engaging three commandos who leapt into the alley directly in front of the nook where they were hiding. 

Steve made quick work of two of their attackers, bouncing his shield off the opposite building into one of them and slamming the metal into the face of the other. Sam took care of the third with the knife he’d carried with him since his tours.

Police sirens wailed from a distance, their volume increasing as Captain America and Falcon stood over three bodies. The fight, though short, had not been quiet. People had noticed. 

“I think we’ve worn out our welcome,” Steve deadpanned.

They were packed and on the first plane back to DC before the authorities even arrived at the scene.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Tony Stark did when all of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s data leaks onto the internet was kick himself. Hard. He’d had all of this at his disposal only a couple of years prior and hadn’t thought to dig further, hadn’t thought that S.H.I.E.L.D. was a lot dirtier than his surface level scans detected.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., pull all S.H.I.E.L.D. files onto our server and categorize them,” he told the AI that essentially kept Stark Tower up and running.

“Anything in particular you’re looking for, sir?” the system replied, a perfect impression of a dry, British butler.

Tony fidgeted with a gadget on his workbench. He tossed it onto a pile of other gadgets. It wasn’t what he needed. “Oh, you know, anything that looks interesting.”

“Of course, sir.” There was a hint of sarcasm in J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice. Just a hint. Tony programmed him to sound like that. It was far more fun when people talked back.

While J.A.R.V.I.S. got those cogs turning, Tony resumed his inspection of the final redesigns of Stark Tower. Though he missed his home in Malibu, having it reduced to a pile of rubble was a pretty damn good reason not to go back. New York was his home now and soon to be, he hoped, a home for the Avengers. They needed somewhere, after all, now that S.H.I.E.L.D. was tango uniform.

“Sir, you have an incoming message from Miss Potts,” J.A.R.V.I.S. interrupted both of their trains of thought.

“Patch it through.” He turned to another display, muttering as Pepper’s face appeared. “Pepper, Pepper, I’m working. Is this of life or death importance?”

She rolled her eyes and jumped straight into what she had to tell him, completely bypassing his playful whining. It was crap and she knew it. “Former agent Maria Hill is downstairs. She’s looking for work since S.H.I.E.L.D. is no longer a valid employer.”

Okay, this was an interesting development. “Agent Hill is downstairs?”

Pepper sighed. “Yes, Tony. I know you heard me the first time. I’m not repeating myself. Get out of your lab and interact with actual humans for once.”

“I interact with humans all the time,” Tony protested.

“The internet and J.A.R.V.I.S. don’t count. Don’t make me come up there,” she threatened.

Damn. She saw straight through his cunning plan. Hey, it wasn’t his fault they hadn’t spent a lot of time together in the past couple of weeks. She’d been out of town on business trips, or other important stuff like that. “Fine, but I’m not dressed.”

“Tony…” Her voice held a note of warning and he knew he’d lost this round.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be decent. Be down in five.” He turned the viewer off. “J.A.R.V.I.S., keep running those files while I’m gone.”

“Of course, sir,” the AI deadpanned as Tony left his lab, the door hissing shut behind him.

***

Agent—no, former agent—Hill had an impressive resume. At least the portions of her resume that were people friendly. Tony suspected a large part was not suitable for a civilian job interview, like being Fury’s right hand. Because God only knew what all that entailed. That information was currently being downloaded onto his system upstairs but it was a stone he wasn’t sure he wanted to look under.

Tony did not conduct the interview. That was not his area of expertise. Again, not a people person. He just played one on TV. He stood in the back of the room, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He didn’t even pay attention to the questions the interviewer asked. Those weren’t important. He kept an eye on Hill’s body language, which was relaxed and confident. It was good to see the whole S.H.I.E.L.D. fiasco hadn’t shaken that. Well, given her previous employment, maybe good wasn’t the best word choice.

He left the room before the interview was over. The entire session was recorded so he could watch it later at his convenience. Never one to hesitate to make bad decisions on his own behalf, he had gotten better about making them with regards to his company. Had to thank Pepper for that one. Although, in Hill’s case, it wasn’t much of a decision. They needed her and she knew it. Probably where a lot of her confidence came from. Oh well.

Knowing that if he sent his decision to Pepper too soon, she’d get onto him for not thinking things through, he headed back up to the lab to check on things. “J.A.R.V.I.S., what’s our status?” Little warning bells went off when J.A.R.V.I.S. didn’t immediately reply. Unless his life was actually in danger, he never listened to those. Whoops. “J.A.R.V.I.S.? You there, buddy?”

“I found a file, sir. On Howard and Maria Stark.”

That was…never a good sign. In a flat voice, he commanded J.A.R.V.I.S. to show him. The file’s contents emptied onto the display and Tony began to flip through them.

He didn’t look away until another message came in from Pepper, almost three hours later. 

“Tony! Tony, do you ever check your messages?” her voice called out, full of concern.

“You know I do, Pepper. I was just distracted. What do you need?” He thought he sounded distant but Pepper had other things on her mind and didn’t notice.

“Ok, well, have you made a decision regarding Hill?” 

He pulled himself together enough to put his best face forward. “Pepper, do you really think we could turn down someone like that? As long as she’s not HYDRA, she’s in.”

He didn’t see her roll her eyes but he knew she had. “Tony, did you even look at her resume or go to her interview? After I told you-“

“Pepper, I went to her interview. Plus, I’ve worked with Hill. She’s a good person. And-and no one needs to see her resume.” He shuddered for dramatic effect. “She’s a good choice. Hire her.”

She paused and scrutinized him. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine. You just caught me in the middle of something.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll trust you on this but you tell if something’s bothering you, ok?”

“Of course,” he agreed, far too easily, but she bought into his act. 

Once he hung up, he asked J.A.R.V.I.S., “Can you track a tech signature?”

“There must be a tracking signal for me to detect, sir. Otherwise I won’t be able to find or track it. The technology you’re after may not have that.” If Tony hadn’t known better, he would have thought J.A.R.V.I.S. spoke with regret.

“That’s fine. Just start your search and let me know if you find anything. Maybe try in and around DC first.” He stared at the kill order for his father, the one that cost him both of his parents.

J.A.R.V.I.S. saying, “Initializing tracking software now,” barely broke through into his thoughts.

***

Tony Stark took the blow in stride. At least, if anyone could see him, J.A.R.V.I.S. not included, he took it in stride. The first thing he should have done was call Rogers but that would have been the smart thing. In his current state of mind, the smart thing was about as far away as it could be. Actually, his current state of mind was nonexistent. His mind was blank, and entirely focused. The beginnings of a new suit, one with a built-in arc reactor, that had started gathering dust in the corner of his lab found itself dusted off and on his desk. For this, he needed a suit. And, since he no longer had one, it was time to build one.

***

Very few things actually fooled Pepper Potts, especially in regards to Tony. She didn’t like that he’d gone to Hill’s interview, if only for a moment, or that he apparently took time to come to a decision about hiring her. She really didn’t like how he sounded when she messaged him to ask him about it.

Something was going on and she was going to figure out what. Hill was about to start her job early.

After Hill arrived in Pepper’s office, they spent more than a few hours arguing back and forth with J.A.R.V.I.S.—some days it was very clear whose AI he was. Neither liked what little they managed to uncover. 

Hill skimmed the most recently viewed file from Tony’s system. “This is not good.”

Pepper moved to look over her shoulder at the screen. “What is it?”

“See this?” Hill pointed at the screen. “This is S.H.I.E.L.D.’s file on Stark’s father.” At Pepper’s scandalized expression, she explained, “He helped found S.H.I.E.L.D.. We weren’t not going to have a file on him.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“HYDRA’s file combined with ours. And HYDRA put out a kill order once they deemed him a high enough threat. He might have gotten wind of Zola’s true intentions. I don’t know.” She glanced up at Pepper. “What would Stark do if he got a hold of this?”

Pepper sighed and rubbed a hand down her face. “Nothing good.” She leaned forward more and scrolled through some of the information. “Does it say who carried out the kill order?”

“It was the Winter Soldier, Pepper,” Hill answered quietly.

Pepper hung her head. “Damn it,” she whispered. “He’ll go after him. If I know Tony, that’s what he’s doing.”

“Don’t stop him.”

“What?!” Pepper recoiled from the chair. 

“If anyone can actually find the Winter Soldier, Stark can,” Hill reasoned. “And he needs to be found. Soon. He’s a danger to others.” She added under her breath, “Maybe to himself as well.”

Pepper squared her shoulders. “I want you to follow him. As soon as he leaves, you leave. Someone needs to call the Captain. Guess that’ll be me.”

Hill turned around in her chair. “Be careful there. The Winter Soldier used to be Cap’s friend. That conversation could be…volatile.”

Pepper smiled thinly. “I live in a skyscraper with two scientists who spend most of their time trying to blow things up. I breathe fire when I’m angry. Volatile is nothing I can’t handle.”

Hill left her office to get ready for her assignment. Pepper lifted the phone from its receiver but her hand hesitated over the number pad, well the number display. She liked older technology but Tony insisted on modernizing everything. She dialed in the number to the Captain’s cell phone and steeled herself for the worst.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve turned his phone on as soon as the plane’s wheels touched the ground. He waited a few moments for missed calls and texts to come through. When they did, he had to check his phone a couple of times.

Sam leaned over to look at Steve’s phone. “Anything important happen while we were in the air?”

“Not sure,” Steve replied as he dialed one of the numbers that had called him multiple times. The phone rang only once before it was frantically answered.

“Captain? Captain, is that you?”

“Yes, ma’am, it is. Who is this?” He glanced at Sam, utterly confused. Sam shrugged. He didn’t know either.

“Captain Rogers, this is Pepper Potts, the CEO of Stark Industries. I’ve been trying to reach you for the past few hours. Are you in DC?”

Sam motioned to a secluded nook where they could talk without being overheard or disturbed. Steve removed the phone from his ear and put her on speaker. “Miss Potts, what’s wrong? Is something wrong with Stark?”

She took a deep breath. “There might be. I think it more accurately is something wrong with you.”

Sam placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Only one thing could be serious enough to contact Steve directly and they both knew what it was, or rather who it was.

“Tony found out about his parents. He knows your friend killed them and he tracked him to DC. The jet left a couple of hours ago. “ She waited to see how Steve would react.

“Do you know what coordinates Stark is heading toward?” he asked her.

Another voice, one that Steve recognized more than Pepper’s, spoke. “The tracking device is on the move, Miss Potts. I have relayed this information to Mr. Stark.”

“J.A.R.V.I.S., send the coordinates to the Captain. Use the number I’m talking to now. He’ll get them,” she ordered the AI.

J.A.R.V.I.S. assented and Steve’s phone pinged with the incoming text message. Steve glanced at the numbers. “Can I get an address for these? Not the best with coordinates. Not without a map anyway.”

The AI replied smoothly, “Of course, Captain.”

Steve’s phone pinged again, this time with information he could understand without a computer. It wasn’t a part of the city he was overly familiar with but he recognized the street names. That was a start.

“You need to get there before Tony, Captain,” Pepper told him. “Head him off. I’m not sure what’ll happen if you don’t.”

“Thank you, Miss Potts. I owe you one,” he admitted as he and Sam dashed to the baggage terminal.

She huffed. “Don’t worry about, Captain. Keep Tony from doing something stupid and we’ll call it even.” She threw in a good luck before hanging up. 

Steve’s motorcycle was parked in the airport parking garage, Sam’s black sedan parked beside it. Sam eyed their travel arrangements and said, “Man, you are not doing this alone. Not after what we went through back in Kiev.”

Steve glanced between the two vehicles. “I can’t ask you to come with me on this. I have no idea what state Bucky’s in and if what Miss Potts said was anything to go by, Stark’ll be a wild card.”

Sam unlocked his car, the chirp echoing against the concrete. “Well aware you ain’t asking me. Never have to. Get in the car, man. We’ll get your bike afterward.”

Steve almost wanted to argue, even opened his mouth to protest, but one glare from Sam shut him up. He slid into the passenger seat without another word. Sam punched the location into his GPS and drove out of the parking lot, looking smug.

***

The Asset stared up at the man made of metal. He clenched his left hand subconsciously, hating the metal that made it all the more. The thing’s head turned toward the movement, its glowing eyes piercing and all-seeing. The Asset looked down and away from those eyes. He curled in on himself and wished the thing would go away.

It didn’t. It just stood there above him, the way his handlers used to. The same sense of fear awoke in him but he didn’t have the energy to lash out at that fear like he had before. The nightmares had bled him dry, leaving only a numb shell behind, one who wished but could never have.

The metal man reached up, causing the Asset to flinch away. It paused and watched him for a moment before resuming its movement, a little slower but just as deliberate. The helmet came apart into two pieces, revealing a man’s face. The Asset saw that face and remembered. Not the man before him—no, they’d never met before, at least, not that he could recall. No, the Asset remembered a night so long ago and a man who promised to change the world. The man before him looked so much like the man in his memories.

“You’re Howard Stark’s kid,” he murmured, completely to himself, just to tell himself he wasn’t crazy.

The man’s face contorted a little, pain in his eyes, but it disappeared behind a mask that wasn’t the metal he removed from his face. “You say that because you knew my father or because you killed him?”

The Asset snapped his gaze up to the man’s and felt bits of the world crumbling away. He knew he was dangerous, the voice in his dreams kept telling him that even though he didn’t remember half the things he must have done to make him so dangerous. “I killed him, and his wife,” he whispered, glancing down at the hands that must have done it.

Stark’s son watched as the Asset tried to back away from himself, as he tried to escape from himself. “No, no, no, no,” he muttered desperately. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

Something changed in Stark, a subtle shift, but one the Asset noticed. He knew how to read people, a skill his handlers had taught him for their nefarious purposes. Despicable as it was, it still was a useful skill. Stark wasn’t a threat anymore.

“Stark!” a voice called out and the Asset shrunk into himself further. Not him. He couldn’t face the owner of this voice. Not now, not ever. Footsteps came closer. Two sets, that the Asset could distinguish. “Stark, back off!”

The metal man backed up. Without looking, he nodded to his left. “Captain. Pepper call you?”

“She did,” the Captain confirmed, coming to stand beside Stark.

The Asset refused to look at either one. The Captain knelt down in front of him but he still couldn’t meet his eyes. From his dreams, he knew this man was the epitome of good. The exact opposite of how he felt.

“Bucky?” the Captain asked, bending over to catch the Asset’s gaze. He turned away. Don’t look at me, don’t look at me, he thought desperately. “Stark’s not gonna hurt you.”

That got the Asset’s attention. His gaze hardened when he met the Captain’s. “What about you?” he snarled. “Are you gonna hurt me?”

The Captain’s face crumbled and he didn’t have the willpower to hide that pain. He ducked his head and inhaled shakily. “I couldn’t hurt you, Buck. Never could.”

“What about the helicarrier?”

The other man’s head snapped up, his eyes pleading. “That wasn’t you. You know that.”

“But it doesn’t matter, does it? You’re wrong. Because it was me. This is who I am now.” The words stabbed into his heart. They hurt him far more than they hurt the Captain and the way the Captain flinched, they hurt him a hell of a lot. Why had he said that?

It was Stark who replied. “You really want to be that person? Do you?”

“Am I not?” the Asset snapped back, miserably.

Steve clasped the Asset’s left shoulder and the reaction to the melding of metal and flesh that the Asset expected never came. “You used to trust me, Buck.”

“I never let your skinny ass get off easy.” The Asset froze as he realized what he said. He’d talked back to someone. Memories of punishments for the same flashed before his eyes and he practically begged Steve not to hurt him.

Steve surged forward and wrapped his arms around his friend. No, the Asset thought, I’m no one’s friend. But he heard Steve whisper in his ear, “Yeah, you did, Buck, and you always saved my skinny ass.” That alone wiped away the other whispers, at least for a moment.

Bucky, not the Asset, leaned back. “Steve?” he asked. “What have I done?”

Steve brushed a stray strand of hair out of his friend’s face. “Bucky, we will figure this out, ok?”

“Uh, Cap, we got company,” the third man, the one that had approached with Steve, spoke.

Steve glanced around and sighed. A squad of fifteen men in black masks surrounded the four of them. “Not again,” he groaned. “Stark?”

Stark popped his headpiece back on. “On it, Captain.”

“Sam?”

Gears whirred on his right as Sam activated his suit, the Falcon suit if Bucky remembered correctly. “On your right.”

The glare Steve shot at Sam could have melted steel. “You’re bringing that back now?”

Sam tossed Steve a look as he ran toward the soldiers, his laughter echoing off the sides of the buildings. The wings on his suit extended and he took to the air as Iron Man soared past him.

“You got really strange friends, Rogers. Anyone ever tell you that?” Bucky asked.

Steve smirked. Sadness still darkened the corners of his eyes. “Once or twice. Never let it get to me.” Bucky vanished beneath the guilt and lack of memories but the Asset still had the strange desire to wipe that sadness away. He was the cause of it, he knew. But if Steve could smile more, that would be enough. 

“Did I ever tell you that?” His voice sounded so unsure but so many of his dreams revolved around the man in front of him. He wanted to know why.

“Not really. Didn’t have many friends back in the day for you to warn me about.”

“Hate to break up the heartwarming reunion, Cap, but we could use some help,” Stark snapped.

The shield found its home on Steve’s arm. With deadly aim, he hurled it toward one of their attackers. Sam, in the air, grabbed it as it bounced off the man’s head and flung it back to Steve. They made quick work of the rest of the soldiers, Hydra goons all of them.

None of them noticed the one sneaking up behind them, reaching for the Asset. As soon as flesh touched metal, or metal through cloth, the Asset twisted around and punched at his attacker. His free arm wasn’t his metal arm and the soldier easily blocked the punch. The soldier jabbed an electrical disrupter into the gears of the Asset’s arm. Pain lanced up his shoulder and he bit back a scream as his arm went limp.

Steve sprinted toward them and leapt onto the soldier, landing a solid blow with the shield as his intermediary. The soldier collapsed to the ground, his grip on the Asset loosening.

He looked up at Steve, panting slightly. “I had him on the ropes.” The words felt so familiar, an exchange he felt he’d had before.

Steve slung the Asset’s good arm over his shoulders, taking the majority of his weight. “I know you did.” And the Asset glanced at him, trying to remember why everything about the Captain felt so familiar.

He didn’t get a chance to ask. With no warning, his world turned black and the world fell away. As he fell, before he completely went unconscious, he heard a voice calling out for him and three pairs of hands grabbing him. Please don’t let me fall, he wanted to cry out, not again.


	5. Chapter 5

The world coalesced around him, above him. Voices swirled through the air but he couldn’t make out any words. He couldn’t see any natural light, only the artificial light from the lights overhead. It was too similar to the rooms he’d been kept it before. 

Panic settled into his stomach, forcing him fully awake. Two people stood on the far side of the room, their backs to him. The woman manipulated the display, rotating images and zooming in on them, muttering to herself. The man next to her, of the same height and build, kept glancing at her with a hint of a smile. She noticed a message on the right side of the screen. She leaned in to read it and turned around. 

Her eyes widened slightly. She punched the man, whose attention was still on the screen, on the shoulder. 

“Ow,” he deadpanned but he didn’t look away from the screen. 

She rolled her eyes dramatically, made a rude gesture—one that her companion didn’t see, and resorted to poking him. The Asset watched the interaction cautiously. His handlers had always tiptoed around him, walking on eggshells, afraid he’d snap. 

“Rory, for the love of… what is it?” He turned, following Rory’s line of sight. “Oh,” was all he said when he met the Asset’s gaze. “I guess I should-“

“Yeah.”

“And you’ll be-“

“Yes, just go.” She pushed him out the door. Once the door latched shut, she groaned as dramatically as she could. “I’m sorry about him. Neurosurgeon by schooling. You can imagine they don’t let him out much.”

The reference was lost on the Asset. Even if he had seen Independence Day, he was too focused on finding an escape route to pay it much attention. “Where am I?”

When her face wasn’t distorted in some exaggerated emotion, it reminded him of the Captain. Unrestrained kindness. The complete reverse of how his handlers looked at him. They feared him. If she did, she hid it well. “You’re in New York. The Avengers Tower, formerly Stark Tower.”

He opened his mouth to ask more questions but closed it again. She caught the aborted action and offered a lopsided smile. 

“You were extremely dehydrated, undernourished, and sleep deprived. Your arm was completely shut down. Mr. Stark did what he could but he wasn’t familiar with the tech. All we did was help your body heal and it seemed to do that without all that much help.” She picked up a tablet and scrolled through its contents. “We need to keep you under observation for about twenty-four hours now that you’re awake but you’re recovering nicely.”

“You talk a lot,” the Asset grumbled but he was grateful for her information.

A casual shrug. “I’ve heard worse.” She pulled the displays hanging in the air onto her tablet. “Nate should be back soon. You worried more than a couple of people. They’ll want to see you…if you’re up to it.”

She had given him a choice. He had the ability to say no. No, that wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. Rather, it was the illusion of the ability. He couldn’t say no. He got hurt when he refused an order. She fidgeted when he didn’t give her an answer, tucking the tablet under her arm, shifting her weight to the balls of her feet.

“Well, let me know,” she added before leaving him alone in the room. She’d been nervous but not because of him. That was a new feeling.

The Captain was the next to visit him, his winged shadow from the helicarriers hanging by the door.

“Your friend doesn’t trust me,” the Asset accused. “Or you don’t.”

He watched as the other man sat down. “It’s not you we don’t trust,” the Captain explained, his eyes hardening.

The men that attacked them, then. It made sense in the Asset’s very focused mindset. An awful thought occurred to him. “They were after me.”

His companion’s silence told him everything. That this man had put his own life in danger to protect him felt so wrong. That wasn’t how things should be. The protective instinct that had driven him to act on the helicarrier flared again.

“Let me go then.” Though he didn’t add that he wasn’t worth anybody’s life, he had a sinking feeling the Captain heard it anyway by the way he flinched.

“Don’t ask me to do that, Buck. Please.” 

The Asset hated it, hated hurting him, hated hurting himself. But how could he stop? 

The only way he could respond was with anger. Pure, uncontrolled anger. It was the one feeling he understood, the one that didn’t bring more pain, more memories. “I’m not Buck or Bucky or whoever you think I am! Stop calling me that!”

A disembodied voice rang through the room. “Captain, Mr. Stark would like a word with you. He’s in the laboratory on the 78th floor.”

The Captain took a moment to compose himself enough to answer. “Tell, uh, tell Tony I’ll be right up.” He paused by the door, just long enough for the Asset to track the tears rolling down his face.

It was what had to be done. So why did he feel so miserable?

***

Steve crumbled outside Bucky’s room. He slid to the floor before Sam could move. 

Sam knelt down in front of him. “Not here, man.” He held out his hand and helped Steve to his feet. Steve leaned against him, let his friend lead him to a waiting room, where Stark, Barton, Banner, and Natasha were waiting. The two doctors that had been tending to Bucky stood by the door.

“I thought Stark was upstairs,” Steve managed.

J.A.R.V.I.S. spoke up. “I only said that to remove you from a potentially volatile situation, Captain. I hope I haven’t overstepped my bounds.”

Steve looked around the room and, failing to find a place to direct his thanks, just uttered a general thank you to the room.

“You are quite welcome, sir.”

Natasha stood up and Sam moved out of her way, sitting in the spot she vacated. “I told you. You weren’t going to like what was on the end of that string you pulled.” She smirked but it lacked the bite she normally infused it with. This was Steve, not some slimy politician, or Pierce.

“You were right. I didn’t like it.”

She reached up and kissed his cheek. “We’ll figure this out, Steve.”

The door opened again. Pepper and Hill almost stumbled into Steve. 

Tony pointed at them. “Uh, you’re-“

“Late,” Pepper finished for him. “We know. PR crisis had to be resolved. You know, important things.”

Tony waved her off. “Priorities, Pepper. Priorities.” He nodded in Steve’s direction and the mood sobered.

Pepper squared her shoulders. “Right.” She extended her hand to Steve. “Pepper Potts, we spoke the other day on the phone.”

He took her hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He nodded at Hill. “Agent Hill, good to see you again.”

“Wish it was under better circumstances,” she replied, not commenting on his use of “Agent” when she was clearly no longer working for S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Don’t we all,” Bruce quipped. “So let’s figure something out. I’m not exactly comfortable being around a confirmed assassin. Not sure how well he and the, uh, the Other Guy, would get along.”

“For the Vine, Jolly Green Giant, for the Vine.” Tony jabbed Bruce in the side.

A chorus of “Tony!” and “Stark!”, at various levels of frustration and anger, came from every person in the room. 

He held up his hands. “Just thought I’d lighten the mood.”

“Now’s not a good time, Stark,” Natasha snapped. 

Steve shot her a grateful look. “Banner’s right. We need to figure out what to do from here.”

The female doctor spoke up from the back of the room. Steve only vaguely remembered her name. “He can’t stay here. It’s too similar to Hydra operations bases.”

“What are you suggesting, Dr. Callahan?” Steve asked her. His voice lacked any emotion.

She took a deep breath. “I’m suggesting you let him go, Captain. His memories are trapped in his mind. Staying here, even with you,” she nodded at him, “is not helping him. It’s frustrating him, angering him. He won’t remember anything that way.”

“You can’t just let him out on the streets,” Barton argued. “He’s seventy years out of time, no money, no connections, no driver’s license or anything.”

“That can be easily arranged, Agent Barton,” J.A.R.V.I.S. informed him.

“Hydra’s still on him, still on us,” Steve countered. “It’s not safe for him out there.”

Natasha offered an idea for consideration. “So we tail him. Someone he doesn’t know. Someone he won’t make.”

“Barton and Hill weren’t directly involved with the takedown of S.H.I.E.L.D., at least not that Barnes would have seen. They’d be good candidates,” Banner added.

Natasha nodded her agreement. 

Sam turned to Steve. “You up for this?”

“Letting him go?” Steve asked. When Sam nodded, he said, “Not at all. But I don’t see another option.” Sam clapped him on the shoulder. He had his work cut out for him as long as Barnes was in the wind.

“Nate and I’ll start gathering up a couple of spare changes of clothes if J.A.R.V.I.S. will work on setting him up a fake I.D.,” Dr. Callahan informed them. She and Nate, the other doctor, left the room quietly. Steve didn’t know them well. They’d only come to work for Stark in the last few months but they were smart, good kids. Stark referred to them as the Twins.

“Guess Hill and I’ll gear up,” Barton said, hopping off the arm of the couch. “Ready to get back in the field, Hill?”

The former agent rolled her eyes and followed Barton out of the room. 

Natasha watched them leave. “Having them work together will be interesting for everybody.”

“That’s a word for it,” Tony couldn’t help but add. “So, Rogers, I’m guessing you’ll be shacking up here for a while. I got rooms all set up.”

Pepper stepped in, “Tony and I would be glad to show you around, help get your mind off things?”

Steve had no energy to argue and let the CEO and founder of Stark Industries lead him out of the room.

When they left, only Bruce, Sam, and Natasha remained. Sam looked at both of them. “We got more problems than just Barnes’ amnesia.” He pulled the journal he’d found in Kiev out of his jacket. “They’ve got a bigger beef with Barnes than we thought.”

Natasha took the journal and leafed through the pages, her expression turning from concerned to horrified. “Does Rogers know about this?”

Sam shook his head. “Never got the chance to show him.”

Natasha passed the journal to Bruce. His reaction was much the same as hers. “We have samples of his blood and his DNA. Once Rory and Nate are done with what they’re doing, I’ll get them on this. If Hydra gets a hold of this, they could finish what they started in the 40s.”

“Or what they tried to finish a couple of months ago,” Sam added.

***

The Asset woke up in the hospital room without as much panic as the first time. Someone had been in his room. The air felt different from when he’d gone to sleep.

He glanced to the chair the Captain sat in. The Captain wasn’t in the chair now but a duffel bag was. He slowly got out of the hospital bed, his hospital gown hanging haphazardly off his shoulder. 

On top of the bag’s contents was a hastily scrolled note. “Took the liberty of buying you a few outfits. The jackets, gloves, and hats are for the cooler weather. Cell phone is disposable and untraceable. Stark installed a simpler version of his AI to help keep trackers off your back. There are also documents and cash. Should be enough to keep you comfortable and under the radar. When you leave, there’s a car for you in the garage.” In another style, a little neater and more feminine, another line was scrawled. “I put something in the tan jacket’s pocket. When you’re up to it, promise me you’ll use it.”

It was signed “The Twins.”

His doctors. That explained their interactions and similar appearances.

He found the tan jacket and reached into the pocket. It was a brochure to the National Air and Space Museum. He didn’t know what else to do. No more memories were forthcoming. If he was going to remember anything, he needed a place to start. That was as good a place as any.


	6. Chapter 6

The drive to Washington was uneventful. Even when he stopped to gas up the car, no one bothered him. The traffic on the New Jersey turnpike, though, he could have done without. Comparatively, the traffic into DC was absolute hell. He had a long list of swears in multiple languages and he employed them to the best of his ability. 

On one hand, it felt great to swear, to let out the pent-anger in a way that didn’t hurt anyone. On the other, the traffic served a rather good purpose. It kept him from thinking too hard on Captain Rogers or any of his companions. Who they were. Or, who they were to him.

His phone pinged with a text message while he waited in construction traffic. It took him a minute to figure out how to open his messages. Some technology he could operate with deadly efficiency but cell phones were still unfamiliar. 

The text was from the Twins. They’d found him a place to live, fully paid for. They even put the deed in his name. With the GPS enabled in his phone, he found the small apartment they had purchased for him. After another two hours in bumper-to-bumper traffic. It wasn’t much, just two rooms. But it was as his as anything had ever been. 

He tossed the duffel bag on the twin bed. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out the brochure. It fell open to reveal the page on the Captain America exhibit. He stared at the Captain’s face, half hidden by the iconic mask. His thumb traced along the edge of the image and he wondered, not for the first time, just what games the Twins were playing.

“Who are you?” he murmured to the image. But he really meant, “Who am I?”

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes,” the Captain’s voice from the helicarrier told him, so sure and so desperate. “You’re my friend.”

“You’re nothing. You’re an asset, nothing more. You do what we tell you. Go where we tell you. Kill who we tell you.” 

The Asset clutched the brochure in his metal hand, crumpling it. “I’m not nothing.”

“Then where are the people who are supposed to care about you?”

He didn’t have an answer and the voice knew it. It laughed at him, quiet and triumphant. He glanced at his duffel and saw the note from the Twins. His hand opened and the crumpled brochure fell to the floor. He reached to pick it up and smoothed out the folds and wrinkles.

There were answers at the museum and if the past few days had taught him anything, it was that he needed answers.

He donned the grey jacket, gloves, and a baseball cap. Grabbing his keys and phone, he left the apartment and the damning voice behind.

One thing he hoped he never got used to was the inner city traffic. Trying to find parking anywhere near the Smithsonian was a nightmare and the Asset was tired of dealing with nightmares while he slept. He didn’t need any extra while he was awake.

The museum was packed with people. The Asset wrapped his arms around himself and shouldered through the throngs to get inside. The metal detector went off when he walked through but the guard caught his eye. Smiling slightly, the guard waved him through. “You got a prosthetic, kid?” he asked.

The Asset nodded, unable to find his voice. 

The guard patted him on his shoulder, the one without metal sprouting from the joint. “Long as you don’t cause a ruckus, you can go on in.”

The Asset offered the guard a forced smile, expecting it to set off warning bells but the guard just smiled broader and waved him on, telling him to enjoy the museum. 

He didn’t expect the museum to be as large as it was. Multiple stories of airplanes from every era and space vehicles from a past he didn’t remember stretched above him. Banners hanging from the ceiling advertised the Captain America exhibit and he followed the directions and the crowds up the escalator.

For a moment, he stood at the entrance of the exhibit. He scanned the quote from the President. The panorama in the entrance stretched beyond his line of sight. An American flag in the background with a larger than life image of the Captain saluting in the foreground. He shook his head at the propaganda but a feeling he could only identify as pride settled in his heart as he steeled himself to walk inside.

The first displays documented Captain America’s childhood and youth. Scrawny Steve Rogers stared back at him. He tuned out the voice drawling out Rogers’ pre-serum specs. The voice had it all wrong. Steve wasn’t meant to be reduced to numbers and statistics.

Steve was a one-sided fight in a back alley. He was the time he woke Bucky up in the middle of the night with an asthma attack. He was the nights when they were kids that he stayed over at Bucky’s while his mother worked. Steve was the strange mix of feelings when Bucky got his deployment orders, the fear of leaving him behind mixing with the peace that he would be safe.

The Asset shook his head and backed away from the wall. He refused to look back at it. Whatever slipped through the cracks in his mind, the memories that awakened because of what he was seeing, he couldn’t believe they were real. 

He continued into the exhibit. Rogers’ motorcycle, the one Howard Stark had designed, sat in one corner. The outfits of the Howling Commandos stood across the room, outlined in brilliant spotlighting. He noticed the star outfit was missing but the others he didn’t recognized. 

“The museum guard told me that Captain America broke in and stole his old uniform!” a girl near the Asset excitedly exclaimed to her mother and he catches himself cracking a smile. If those muscles had been mechanized, they would have groaned with disuse.

He watched the girl bound away, happy with her conspiratorial knowledge, her mom trying to keep up with her. As he turned back to the uniforms, another lighted display caught his eye. 

All air left his lungs and the world around him went black. The only thing he could focus on was the display directly in front of him.

It was his picture, staring out over the crowd. It was his picture next to the name the Captain had kept calling him. James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. Born 1917. Presumed dead after falling from a high speed train in an attempt to capture Hydra scientist Arnim Zola. The awful feeling of falling he’d experienced on the helicarrier as he watched the Captain fall, hearing a lone voice crying out as he fell, suddenly clicked into place.

The memories didn’t burst through like a dam breaking. Before, they’d only come in sleep or in moments where Hydra’s control just slipped. They didn’t sucker punch him in the gut. He didn’t double over in pain. They just came in a steady stream. They were the comforts of home, washing over him, and God how he missed them. Steve riding that damn motorcycle into a Hydra base, “Dum Dum” Dugan’s boisterous laugh over a pint after a successful mission, Frenchie and Gabe trading jokes in French only to have them fall flat when explained in English, Agent Carter in that red dress. The first time he saw a familiar face after his capture at the hands of Hydra, the first time around, and it was Steve. The emotions he felt then, he felt them just as strongly now, undimmed by time. Externally, he didn’t react at all; he was a man frozen in place. Internally, he was screaming.

“Everything you told me, it was all a lie,” he hissed at the voice in his head, the one he still had no name for. “You took everything from me.”

That voice had no reply for once, no witty comeback or harsh laugh. It remained blissfully silent. The voice in his mind that did reply sounded an awful lot like the Captain, like Steve. “Not everything. You still got me, Buck. Always did.”

The Asset closed his mouth, which had fallen open, his lips pressing into a hard line. Except he wasn’t the Asset anymore, even if he didn’t quite feel like Bucky yet. He wasn’t a tool for Hydra to wield as they saw fit. Everything about his posture shifted slightly and hardened with determination, Bucky’s determination.

If Bucky was one thing, besides Steve’s friend and a huge flirt, he was a soldier. Hydra had made him the perfect soldier. They deserved the rain of hellfire they were about to receive because that perfect soldier was operating under his own orders now.

***

The little girl tugged at her mother’s purse, trying to get her attention. She recognized the man walking away from the panel on Bucky Barnes and she wanted to tell someone. She had to tell someone. Without her mother’s permission, she followed him. Being as short as she was, she quickly lost him. She was so upset that she failed to see the person in front of her stop and she walked right in him.

The hand that kept her from falling shot out so fast she didn’t see it move. She looked up at its owner and gasped. She’d found him! 

The man watched her glance from the panel back to him a couple of times. She saw how terrified he was that she recognized him so she tugged on his jacket like she had her mother’s purse.

He knelt down to be closer to her height. She leaned in and whispered, “It’s ok, Mister Barnes. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.” As she pulled away, she planted a kiss on his cheek. 

She was going to be in so much trouble if she didn’t find her mom soon but she asked Mister Barnes for help. He stood and pointed her in the right direction. She threw a thank you over her shoulder as she bounded away. She didn’t see how he stared at her in shock and complete confusion.

***

Barton leaned against one of the trees peppering the National Mall. In sunglasses, jeans and a loose collared shirt, he was the epitome of not-a-secret-agent. The tree he was leaning against wasn’t close to the Air and Space Museum but he could still keep the entrance in his line of sight.

When he saw Barnes leaving the museum, he called Hill. 

“Maria Hill,” was the response he got as she answered his call.

“Hill, it’s Barton. Barnes is on the move. Leaving the museum, heading toward his car.”

“Yeah, I got it was you from the caller ID,” she grumbled. “You think the museum helped him at all?” she asked, hopeful in a way that was very unlike her.

He watched Barnes walk across the green space. There was a definite change in how he held himself. Maybe there was hope yet. “Without talking to him, I can’t say for sure. But I’m leaning toward yes.”

“Alright, I’ll keep an eye on him, see where he goes from here.”

Barton pushed off the tree. “You do that. I’m grabbing Starbucks.”

“Barton,” she griped. “How many have you had today?”

“Just one before we left Stark’s. Cut me a little slack here. I drove through the worst traffic in DC history tailing this guy.”

Hill laughed. Barton squinted and could just make out her form about thirty feet behind Barnes. “Alright, but we have a date tonight. Don’t forget it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied with the same level of snark. He ended the call and slid the phone back in his pocket. 

Now, to find that Starbucks…


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't exactly happy with where this chapter went but I couldn't drag back to where I wanted it to go. So I apologize if this isn't up to par with the rest.

“The Twins’ plan worked,” Hill informed the gathered group, the Avengers—and Sam—minus Banner and Barton, via the speakerphone in Stark’s private conference room. “That was a good call.”

“What happened?” Steve asked, relief and dread expressed in equal measure.

“Exactly what they said would happen. If his body language is any indication, he’s remembering.” By the tone of her voice, Hill couldn’t believe it. She had to, because the evidence said so, but still.

Steve leaned over the table and sighed. 

“Isn’t that a good thing, Cap?” Sam asked gently. “Him getting his memories back?”

“I wish I knew. You saw him when we found him in DC. Finding out he’s responsible for multiple murders, that he had no control over what he did?” He met Sam’s concerned gaze. “How would you handle that?” 

Sam didn’t have a good answer for him.

Steve’s voice shook when he said, “He shouldn’t have to go through that alone.” Before Hill or anyone else could reply, he stormed out of the room. To the surprise of everyone, Tony was the first to rise and go after him.

Hill inhaled. “Should I call back?”

Natasha’s eyes were glued to the door Stark had left from. “Yeah, we got problems here.”

“I’ll keep you updated. Barton will be doubling back to join me tonight.”

“Good luck, Hill.” The phone clicked off. Natasha spoke to everyone in the room, “Any idea what the hell’s up with Rogers?”

***

“Steve! Steve!” Tony called out. The super soldier moved way too fast for a normal human to keep up with but damned if Tony didn’t try. From the conference room, across the hall, to the elevators, he followed the sound of angry footfalls.

He didn’t catch up to Steve until they were in Steve’s apartments. “Damn it, Rogers, slow the hell down. Not all of us are genetically enhanced.”

“Why are you here, Stark? You are the last person I want to talk to right now,” Steve snapped as he reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

Tony followed the bottle as Steve opened it and poured about half its contents into a glass. ‘Thought you couldn’t get drunk.”

“Worth a shot,” he deadpanned, emptying the glass.

Tony slid onto the closest bar stool. “I’m assuming you didn’t intend to make a pun there. Not one hundred percent sure, but puns don’t seem your type.”

Steve stared into his glass and only halfheartedly glared across it at Tony. The tears in his eyes spilled over. He hastily wiped them away. “You got something to say, say it. Otherwise, leave.” 

He was daring Tony to comment but Tony just raised his hands. Too much emotion and way too much tension for his blood. There was a time for jokes and a time to be serious. And a time to pointedly ignore the pain on display before him—but hey, that one he was good at. “Fine, fine.” He grabbed the glass and bottle from Rogers and poured much less than the good captain had. The alcohol burned his throat as it went down but it helped steel him for what he was about to ask. “What’s up with you and Barnes?”

It was a horrible question to ask, especially since Rogers was already not handling the situation well, but Tony had opened his home to this craziness. He had a right to know what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

Steve was not forthcoming with information, however. “You want to know about Barnes? There’s a thing called the internet, Stark. Really helpful. Maybe use that.”

Tony leaned across the bar. “If I just wanted information on Barnes, I’d have J.A.R.V.I.S. look him up.” He took another sip of whiskey. “I asked about you and Barnes.”

“There’s a whole museum exhibit in DC about that.” The captain turned from the bar and, taking the glass from Tony, put it in the sink. It clanked as it hit metal.

“Ancient history,” Tony countered as he closed the bottle and moved to put it away. He met Steve’s glare and shrugged it off. “All right, I admit, poor choice of words. But it is history. Not what concerns me.” Crossing his arms, he faced Rogers. “You know, you and him, history says you’re like—say—me and Rhodey. But you don’t act like it.”

“Stark, don’t,” Steve warned him.

But Tony had his teeth in something and he couldn’t let it go. “No, see, you’re not acting like I would, if this happened to Rhodey.”

“Can’t imagine why.” 

Tony continued as if Steve hadn’t spoken. “I’d be reacting like this if something happened to P—oh.” Tony’s mouth fell open. “That’s not—well, fuck.” That explained quite a lot when he thought about it, Rogers’ distraught mental state first and foremost. “Shit, I-son of a-.” Oh, he’d fucked up big time.

“You done?”

Tony didn’t get a chance to answer either way.

“Hey, guys. Staff meeting, my lab, now,” Rory ordered over the PA system. Tony and Steve shared a look. God, of all things they did not need, it was any update from Rory. When Rory started bossing people around, something was very wrong.

***

“Whatever is going on better be damn important because Captain Ice and I were in the middle of a very interesting conversation,” Tony griped at Rory. Leave it to Stark to try to lighten the mood, even if it wasn’t called for.

She rolled her eyes, an action Rogers caught. He didn’t smile but the corners of his lips twitched. “Hell of a conversation you must have been having,” she murmured, noting how he squinted in the bright light of the lab. A telltale sign of a hell of a lot of crying but she didn’t point that out. “You look like you want to kill him.”

Rogers glanced down at her.

She shrugged. “I’ll help you bury the body. Just sayin’.” 

“I hope it won’t come to that,” he replied.

“Give it time. I’ve come real close a couple of times already and I’ve only worked here a few months.” She looked around, ensuring everyone she needed was present. “Ok, now that we’re all here,” she cast a pointed look at Tony, “Dr. Banner and I need to show you what we’ve uncovered.”

“Hydra did a lot more to Sergeant Barnes than we previously thought,” Banner started off. He winced as Steve sucked in a breath. “We examined his arm and its connection to his shoulder. The damage to the nerves in a severed arm is extensive and the technology needed to connect a prosthetic with that kind of damage…well, let’s just say I’m not sure anyone outside of Stark Industries has that capability even now.”

He nodded to Rory, who continued, “The tissue repair around the prosthetic’s connection was far beyond what the human body can do alone. That hinted at genetic manipulation so that’s where I started.” She pulled up a display and enhanced the data on it into a 3D image. “Of the samples I took, bone marrow proved the most…informative.”

The image on the display rotated. 

“I tried looking at DNA first, from mucosal samples. No dice. So I tried other places. That’s how bone marrow came up. So did dermal tissue, the liver, brain, and a couple of others.” She called up another image and superimposed it over the one she already had. “They selectively targeted tissues for genetic enhancement, ones that would more greatly benefit regeneration and healing.” The display highlighted the differences in the two strands. 

“And that’s not the only engineering we found in his DNA, either,” Banner picked up. “Dr. Callahan was able to isolate changes in how the telomeres in those cell lines operated.”

“Anyone care to explain what telomeres are?” Steve asked. 

Rory exchanged a worried glance with Banner. The lack of emotion in the captain’s voice—he was detaching himself completely from the situation. Rory was very concerned. “Captain, you sure you-?”

He cut her off, not unkindly. “Just keep talking, Doctor. Please.”

Squaring her shoulders, she explained, “Telomeres are the segments at the ends of chromosomes to protect them from damage during replication.”

Banner stepped in to clarify, “Essentially, as a linear strand of DNA replicates, a portion at the end is lost. Telomeres are specific sequences at the ends of chromosomes that designed to be lost so that important information, such as genes, isn’t lost from a chromosome. They’ve been linked to the aging process, among other things.”

Rory nodded her thanks. Sometimes she rambled a bit with science. 

“So they turned him into their own version of Rogers?” Natasha shrugged when everyone turned to her.

“I think it was more piecemeal but yeah, basically. And based on what we’ve translated from that journal Sam brought back from Kiev, we’ve only scratched the surface.” She shut down the display and the DNA helices vanished. “What makes this even more dangerous is how different it is from every other form of genetic engineering we’ve discovered. Erskine’s serum, gamma radiation, even Extremis—nothing comes close. Those have failed to be repeated. Mostly. We’ve got a blueprint for what they did to Barnes. This—this could be produced en masse.”

“What happens if Hydra gets their hands on some of this?” Sam asked.

“They can enhance anyone. Or an army. And there are probably a lot more of them than there are of us,” Bruce answered.

“Since they haven’t done that yet, can we assume they don’t have their own copy of this?” Steve held the journal up.

A chorus of yes’s greeted him.

“And it’s backed up in J.A.R.V.I.S.’s database, correct?”

The AI assured him that the entirety of the journal’s contents was downloaded into his system.

He handed the journal to Rory. "Then burn it. One less way they can get their hands on, right?”

She took the journal and set it on fire in one of the only public displays of her own genetic enhancements. It transformed into a pile of ashes, useless to anybody.

No one spoke, the severity of what they were uncovering weighing on them.

Steve thanked her and offered her a piece of paper towel to clean her hands off. “Thank you for what you’re doing. Let me know if you find anything else,” he added before leaving.

Rory sighed. “Well, Dr. Banner, you ready to get back to work?”

Banner slid his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Guess that’s all we can do right now.” He ducked from the room after her.

“Okay, man, what the hell did you do to set Cap off?” Sam demanded of Tony when it was just the two of them and Natasha remaining.

“Me? I did nothing. Just asked a couple of questions that if we’d been smart, we’d have asked before now.”

“So what you’re saying is that you went into a situation that required tact and trampled through it?” Natasha eyed Stark like a predator with its prey cornered. 

“Y’all care to fill me in?” Sam withered under the glare Natasha turned on him.

The glare morphed into a sickly sweet smile. “I’ll let Stark do that while I do damage control.”

***

Natasha Romanoff liked to think she had a good handle on her anger, or at least she held onto it well until she had an outlet for it. Spending more than a couple of hours around Tony Stark really made her reevaluate that position. And she wasn’t the only one that wanted Stark’s head on a platter after whatever stunt he’d pulled with Rogers. Well, maybe they’d been just toying with the idea.

She wasn’t.

Not after seeing how shaken he was after the call from Hill.

“Rogers?” she called out, knocking on the door leading into the Captain’s apartments. “You in there?”

The door opened. She took it as an invitation. Steve returned to his seat at the bar without looking at her. “You talk to Stark?”

“No. Should I have?” She slid onto the stool next to him and spent the time it took him to debate replying to really get a good look at him. Even the soft kitchen light did nothing to hide the bags under his eyes. He was paler. His face was just on the wrong side of red and puffy. He’d been crying but not recently and he was trying his hardest not to start again. “You’re a mess.”

“Gee, thanks.”

The smile she offered him, though small, was genuine. “Hey, I watch my friends’ backs.”

“Thought you were taking some time off to get everyone off yours,” he retorted. “Haven’t had a chance to apologize for bringing you back in.”

“Don’t apologize, Rogers. I wouldn’t have come back if I didn’t think I could handle the pressure.” 

He huffed. “You’re a horrible liar, Nat. Ever think you’re in the wrong business?”

She just shrugged even though having her own question placed squarely back in her lap—again—didn’t escape her notice. “I think blowing up where I work is a pretty good sign that I quit.”

That drew a laugh from Rogers. “I guess it does. Looks like we’re both out of a job.”

“Not really,” she countered. “Looking after you guys is a fulltime job. Apparently it’s a quiet week if Stark only manages to Hulk Banner out once.” She leaned over, trying to get him to focus on her. “Why did you ask if I’d talked to Stark anyway?”

Steve couldn’t look her in the eyes. 

“This about you and Barnes?” It wasn’t a total stab in the dark. She could read the signs as well as anyone.

His head snapped up and she had her answer.

She let out a low whistle. “I gotta admit, I did not think Stark would be the first to find out.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since he pulled you from the river. I mean, you two are a Raleigh/Mako Mori level of drift compatible if you catch my meaning.”

Ever the perfect gentleman, when he got up for a drink, he offered her one as well. She accepted, not wanting to think on how much booze he’d knocked back already. “I saw that one so, yeah I kinda do.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Steve exhaled. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” Until the Twins and Banner discovered something else, or until Barnes made a move, or Hydra decided to attack, all she had was time.

So Steve told her.


	8. Chapter 8

The memories Steve dusted off for Natasha, he himself hadn’t looked at in quite some time. Partly because they were painful reminders of a person and a time that were lost to him. 

For Steve, the years when he was skinny and sickly were much closer than they were for everyone else. Sleeping for seventy years had that effect.

He had a mouth in those days, he told her, one that had no control switch when he really needed one. His mouth was what got him into fights but he regretted none of them. The times he defended women from creeps, whether on the street or in the theater, times assholes spoke out against those fighting overseas. There wasn’t a fight he ever really won. He either stumbled home bruised and bloody, completely beaten, or Bucky had stepped in to finish the fight for him. The nights when Bucky wasn’t there, he showed up later steaming mad. But he always got Steve patched up again. He was good at that.

People eventually were able to set their clocks by when Steve got into fights. They got to be almost daily, especially once his mother died, especially after the war started. Yes, he turned down Bucky’s offer to live with him for a while. Some things he had to sort out for himself.

Of course Bucky hadn’t left him alone. He’d given him a couple of days but Steve trying to enlist to set his friend off. Well, not initially. He found that out during their argument.

“You can’t go out every night and pick fights, Steve. That’s beyond idiotic.”

Steve took the stairs two at a time, resolutely avoiding replying to his friend.

Bucky wouldn’t take his shit though. “Damn it, listen to me.” He grabbed Steve’s shoulder and spun him around. “You gotta stop. I mean, what will you do when I’m not there to bail you out?”

“Guess I’ll lose, Buck.” He twisted out of Bucky’s grasp and unlocked the shanty that was his excuse for a home. “I’m used to that by now.”

Bucky slammed the door shut and he shifted his stance. “You tried again, didn’t you? Fuck, you actually tried to apply again.”

Bucky was angry. Or furious. Steve couldn’t tell. He didn’t really care. “I did and you getting angry isn’t going to do anything about it. Just let it go.”

He didn’t. Not that time, or the time after.

Steve told Natasha how they fought in Stark’s Expo, at the enlistment booth. “I thought he’d lay me out right there, in front of all those people.”

“Sounds like he was trying to protect you,” she reasoned.

He laughed. “It’s Bucky. That’s all he did. I grew up without siblings but he managed to fill the role all the same. Even if I hated him for it.”

She nudged his shoulder. “I bet you didn’t hate him half as much as you think you did.”

And she was right, he realized. There was a little resentment. Definitely a lot of frustration. And fear. Maybe he’d just called it hate. “He lied to me about enlisting. Thought I couldn’t handle the truth about him being drafted.” He wiped his eyes. They had no tears left to cry but he wiped them anyway. “He thought he should stay and look after me.”

“He did a damn good job.” Brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, she slid from the barstool. ‘Come on, Rogers. There have got to be more comfortable seating arrangements in these apartments. I won’t be able to walk if we sit here much longer.”

Steve let her help him up and maneuver him to the plush sofa in the adjacent living room. 

“What happened after that?”

“I didn’t see him again until I rescued him from that Hydra base.” He shuddered. “When I’d heard the 107th had taken a hit, and I thought he was dead, I couldn’t see straight.”

“Thinking he was dead,” she whispered and laid her hand on his. “I can’t imagine what that’s like.” When the silence dragged on a bit too long, she added, “Rogers, you gotta talk about this to someone. You think Tony’s a better option?”

The look Steve gave her told her he didn’t. “What do you want me to say, then?”

“Whatever you need to say. When did you realize about—you know?”

It was when he saw Bucky on the table in that lab. Once he cleared the red that clouded his gaze and relief flooded through his limbs. Cool, blessed relief. His whole world was there strapped to that operating table. And he just knew.

Bucky didn’t recognize him at first. To be fair, the last time they’d seen each other, Steve had been the little kid from Brooklyn, not the newly minted super soldier. Bucky hadn’t known about that. There were a lot of things Bucky didn’t know.

Steve thought Bucky was handling it well, the super soldier thing. He was wrong. If he’d thought the fights before Stark’s Expo were bad, they were nothing compared to the one that came after.

Bucky confronted him in the bar after it’d closed. Only a few candles shed their soft light against the night around them. “You lied to me, Rogers.” He looked his friend over. “What did you let them do to you?”

Steve tried to explain everything about Erskine and his formula but Bucky wouldn’t have it.

“You saw what it did to-“ he waved his hand, trying to remember the name.

“Schmidt,” Steve filled in.

“Yeah, him.”

“It’s not the same with me. I’m not Schmidt. I’m still the same kid who picked fights in back alleys even when I knew I couldn’t win.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t look like you’ll be losing many fights from now on,” he gritted out bitterly.

Steve had a moment of clarity. Things clicked into place. “Is that what this is about, Buck? You’re pissed at me for actually getting my shit together and doing something? That’s low even for you.”

Pain flashed across his friend’s face, whether from the words or his recovering injuries. He brushed off Steve’s offer to help him. “No, I-I’m not-fuck, Steve, I’m not mad at you.”

“Then explain what you are mad at ‘cos you’re doing a hell of a job so far!”

“Everyone, ok?! How’s that for an answer?” Steve saw a glimpse of just how much turmoil Bucky was going through and his heart shattered. Bucky continued, “I’m mad at the army for dragging you into this, at that Erskine guy. I’m pissed at myself. For not keeping you away.” His legs gave out. Steve caught him and helped him to the floor. 

They sat side by side, leaning against a wall.

“The whole army tried and failed to keep me out. You weren’t gonna stop me.”

“I should have.” Bucky pulled his knees up and leaned over them. His voice muffled, he explained, “I didn’t enlist because I thought I could keep talking you out of it if I stayed. Then, when I got drafted, I told myself I’m come over and fight because it meant you wouldn’t have to.”

Steve draped an arm across Bucky’s shoulders. They were shaking. “Bucky. Bucky, come on.” Christ, he was not good at this. He was not meant to be the strong one in this relationship. All his life, he’d looked up to Bucky, depended on him. What could he say to someone who’d been on a laboratory slab for days? What could he say to his friend who still had Hydra’s poison coursing through his veins? “I wasn’t supposed to be at that Hydra base, okay?”

Bucky raised his head. “What are you talking about?”

“I disobeyed orders. Had Agent Carter and Mr. Stark fly me in. No one else could get to you in time. I did what I did because if I had one chance, just one, to save your ass, you damn well better believe I was gonna take it.”

Steve broke away from Bucky’s gaze, which, despite the tears running down it, switched from awe to gratitude to a whole other set of emotions Steve was not ready to name.

“If I hadn’t gone with Erskine, you’d probably be dead and I-I just- I couldn’t live with that. So I can’t regret anything that happened to get me here. Don’t ask me to do that.”

Neither spoke for a while after that. It felt cathartic to release all that pent up frustration and anger even though they’d have God’s own headaches come morning. Steve finally dragged them from the bar and got Bucky to his tent.

He said nothing when Bucky pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, one he was all too happy to return. As he walked away, he turned back, “Hey, at least we know you didn’t take all the stupid with you.”

Bucky just laughed and shook his head. “You’re still a punk, you know that?”

“And you’re still a jerk. Everything’s still right with the world.”

***

“So you never told him?” Natasha asked. “Not after that or any of your missions?”

Steve chuckled humorlessly. “By the time I’d found the nerve to say anything, he was falling from a train. So, no. I never told him.”

She leaned back into the sofa cushions. “It explains a lot, though.” In response to Steve’s questioning look, she explained, “Why you went catatonic after the bridge. Why you refused to kill him on the helicarrier.” She fell silent for a moment, giving her next words added weight. “Why, after everything Hydra did to him, he still pulled you from the river.”

Steve opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off.

“It takes a lot to break through that kind of trauma, Rogers. Trust me. I know. Somehow you got to him, through the Winter Soldier and whatever else Hydra did.” She smiled. “I don’t think it was as one-sided as you’re making it out to be.”

“It doesn’t really matter now, does it? He’s off the grid. Hydra’s breathing down our backs. Tony-well, Tony’s not handling the news about his parents.”

“Of course it matters,” she argued. “It matters because he’s still alive and he’s regaining memories of the past he’d lost for so long. I heard you talking to Sam earlier, how upset you were that he’s dealing with this on his own. You ever stop to think that maybe you’re forcing yourself to do the same? And neither of you has to. You told me that you would trust me with your life. Do that now.”

Steve grasped her hand tightly and let it go. “I just did.”

She nodded, effectively ending that portion of their conversation. “And don’t worry about Stark. We’ll talk him around when we need to. Besides, Hill should be calling back soon.” She fought to extricate herself from the couch and held out a hand to help Steve do the same. “You up to this?” she asked.

He took her hand and got to his feet. “I think so.”

He pulled the apartment door closed and walked with her down the hallway to the elevator. As it jolted to life and rose to the higher levels, Steve looked over at Natasha. “Thanks,” he said simply.

“Anytime,” she replied, her cool demeanor back in place as the doors slid open.

“Oh, and not a word of this to Stark,” he added.

Natasha’s laughter followed him into the conference room.


	9. Chapter 9

Waiting was a bitch. Anyone who has ever sat in the hospital emergency room at the ass crack of dawn knew waiting sucked. At least there, Tony mused, you were guaranteed service sometime in the twelve hours after admittance. Barnes, apparently, was not compelled to operate on as tight a time schedule.

And, yeah, it was asking a lot of an amnesiac to just hop back on the memory train and ride it off into the land of the helpful. But two weeks had passed and Tony was getting antsy.

To top it off, they hadn’t heard another peep from Hydra in that span of time. That was more than enough to make Tony jumpy.

He spent the time between his lab and Banner’s lab, either tinkering on his new suit or reviewing the information Banner and the Twins were gathering on Barnes’ DNA. The Twins, he reflected, were a good hiring decision on his part. Nathaniel, the neurosurgeon turned psychologist, and Aurora, the double PhD geneticist and bioengineer. Between them and Banner, they’d get to the bottom of Hydra’s handiwork.

Not his primary concern.

Nor was worrying about their safety now that Barnes was loose on the world. No, he hadn’t thought about the fact that Barnes was responsible for his parents’ death. Why would he do that?

No, the majority of his waking hours, when Pepper wasn’t trying her damnedest to get him out of the lab, was spent in the lab. He’d gotten a real good look at Barnes’ metal arm when the super assassin had been unconscious in his hospital wing. The basic mechanics were on par with some of Tony’s weaponry, especially on some of his later suits. The nerve connections, though, were something else entirely.

He’d had J.A.R.V.I.S. run diagnostics and set up a full schematic of the inner workings, something he could tinker with once Barnes was cut loose. Partly because that kind of tech needed to be defended against but partly because Tony knew it would radically change the market for prosthetics. 

Hey, something good needed to come from all this Winter Soldier crap. This was a good start.

When Bruce buzzed the intercom, Tony wasn’t working on Barnes’ arm. He was added adjustments to his suit, Mark forty-something. Maybe. It was around there. 

“Tony, you in there?”

Tony didn’t look up from his workbench to press the button that unlocked the door to his lab to allow his friend, and fellow scientist, inside.

“You up here actually working or are you just avoiding Rogers and Romanoff?”

Tony hummed. “Can I do both? I think I’m doing both. More Romanoff than Rogers though. Sergeant Patriotism doesn’t scare me as much as our Russian super assassin.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Bruce commented.

“Correction,” Tony amended, sliding his chair to another workbench. “I’m busy.” He finally looked away from his tinkering. “And who are you to judge me, big guy? You spend all your time with the Twins. Have you even spoken to Rogers since he got here?”

“I’m keeping myself removed from the whole thing. The Other Guy is too large a variable in this situation.”

“You’re not removed,” Tony countered. “Removed would be a remote tropical island with birds and fish and palm trees. You’re still here. Ergo, not removed.”

Bruce shrugged. It wasn’t an original argument. They both knew that. “I manage.”

Yes, he did.

“What are you working on up here anyway?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Who’s asking?”

Bruce pulled his glasses form his pocket and slid them onto his face. “You mean, am I asking or did Pepper send me up?” He chuckled when Tony glared at him. “She’s concerned, Tony. I’m just doing her a favor since you’ve programmed the doors to your lab to not let her in.”

“Traitor,” Tony muttered, resuming his work. 

Bruce dragged another rolling chair over and glanced over Tony’s work. “You’re trying to account for Hydra tech with your new suit designs?”

“Mmhmm…”

Tony didn’t have to say anything for Bruce to hang around and offer suggestions. Never let it be said Bruce didn’t make up for his betrayals.

It came back to bite him when Pepper came looking for both of them a few hours later. 

“Bruce Banner!” Pepper shouted. She pounded on the door that Tony had locked on her. “I sent you to check on Tony. Not to play K’nex with him! Don’t make me melt this door!”

Tony clapped Bruce on the shoulder. “Gotta face the music, big guy. I don’t envy you.”

“Oh, no.” Bruce grabbed Tony’s wrist and dragged him along. “I’m not facing this alone.” He typed in the unlock code. The door slid open to reveal a very irate Pepper Potts.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You two. With me. Now.”

Tony and Bruce shared a look. Neither was jumping with joy but they had no choice. Not with Pepper like this.

They followed her to the conference room. “Hill called in a couple of minutes ago.”

“Pepper, are you back?” Hill’s voice emanated from the speaker on the desk.

“Yes, I’m back. I’ve got Tony and Bruce. They’re all I could grab on short notice.”

Hill sighed. “I got bad news, guys. Barnes gave us the slip.”

Tony groaned.

“He made us right after the museum. Just didn’t act on it until today. We’ve got no leads on him.”

“That’s not surprising.”

Everyone startled and turned to see Steve standing in the doorway.

“He probably thought you were Hydra agents,” he explained.

“You seem pretty upbeat, Rogers. What changed?” Tony didn’t know when to ask nicely about some things. He just demanded.

For once, Steve didn’t rise to the bait. “Nothing changed. I just…reevaluated some things.”

“That’s all well and good, Cap, but you have any idea how to find this guy?” Barton asked.

Steve inhaled. “I don’t think you will. I think he’ll find us when I—we—need him to. Not before.”

“Steve’s right,” Pepper concluded. “You guys wrap it up and get back to us ASAP. We’ll figure out what to do once you get here.” She glanced at the others around the table. “Until then, we can only assume he’ll make his way back.”

“With Hydra behind him,” Bruce mused.

Tony called up J.A.R.V.I.S. “Put the building on alert. All nonessential personnel should be sent home immediately.”

“Of course, sir. The required evacuation procedure is underway.”

“Okay, Bruce,” Pepper pointed at him, “get down to the Twins. Tell them what’s going on.” She turned to Steve. “Steve, talk to Sam. Both of you need to be prepared in case Hydra comes knocking.” Finally, she glared at Tony. “And I can not believe I’m saying this, but you might want to finish up on that new suit, Tony.”

Tony whooped and rubbed his hands together. Maybe Halloween was coming up but for him, it was Christmas.

***

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity. Hill and Barton arrived late that first night, but quickly, thanks to Stark’s private jet.

Pepper, ever the observant CEO, kept the operation running smoothly. Natasha and Barton passed those days in the fighting ring. Hill, more often than not, on the shooting range. Sam sent his flight suit to Tony for repairs and modifications. Bruce and the Twins remained in their lab. The Hydra threat meant less to them since none of them wanted to be involved in any fighting.

The entire building was in lockdown. J.A.R.V.I.S. allowed no one in that wasn’t DNA and retinal scanned. Steve suggested that no one leave unless it was urgent. No one argued with him.

He checked in with the Twins and Bruce in their lab. Only Rory was there to meet him. Banner was probably helping Tony out. Nathaniel could have been anywhere. It was a large lab.

Rory rolled her chair out from behind one of her massive, loud machines. Her face lit up. “Captain! What brings you to the bowels of Stark Tower?”

“Just checking up on how things are down here.”

Rory leaned back in her chair. “That’s bullshit and we both know it. Why are you really down here? And don’t say to socialize. I’m a scientist. I don’t do socialize.”

“I’m just checking on the safety protocols for the backup of the journal.”

She rose from her chair and pushed it back. “Cap, it’s as safe as I can make it. Two levels of encryption, required retinal and fingerprint scans, and J.A.R.V.I.S. is a stickler for safety. Aren’t you J.A.R.V.I.S.?”

“Indeed I am.”

She offered an apologetic smile. “I can’t really do more than that.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Aurora.”

A crash startled them both. Rory called out, “Nate, you ok?”

Her brother replied, “Yeah, just dropped a beaker. Floor caught it!”

Rory couldn’t help laughing. She leaned against her machine until she could catch her breath. “Well, that’s the most exciting thing that’s happened all day. That make your day?”

“That’s one word for it.”

He turned to leave but she reached out to grab his jacket. “You okay, Cap? And I don’t just mean do you think you’re okay? Are you okay? Trust me, I know the difference.”

“I-I don’t know,” he admitted.

“That’s the worst part, isn’t it? You think you’re fine then something happens and you’re back to square one. One step forward, about eighteen back.”

Steve smiled. It came out more as a grimace. “Spoken from experience?”

“More than you’d know, Cap. More than you’d know.” 

One of her machines started beeping at her. She groaned and landed in her chair at a run. It slid across the floor very quickly, much to her delight. She reappeared moments later. “Sorry about that. Science called.”

He waved off her apology. “Don’t worry. I’ve been in a few labs in my time.”

“Rogers, can you come to conference room?” Romanoff asked over the intercom.

Rory managed to add before he left, “Good luck, Steve.” She turned back to her machines. “Speak to me, babies.” Rubbing her hands together, she donned her lab coat and a pair of gloves.

She didn’t see the masked man sneaking up behind her. She didn’t feel a thing when he hit her over the head with a glass beaker. All she remembered was her world going dark.

***

Something wasn’t right. Steve felt it as he left the lab. It stayed with him as he traveled to the conference room, where Natasha had asked him to come. She wasn’t there.

Three heavily armed soldiers were.

***

Tony barely had time to get his suit on to fire back at the team sent to take him out. He sent out a building-wide alarm to at least give the others a heads up. They were under attack.

***

Sam and Natasha heard the alarm and met up with Barton and Hill. They couldn’t reach Pepper or the Twins’ lab. Sam and Hill went to find Pepper while Barton and Hill trekked down to the lab. They’d all been waiting for Hydra to make a move. This was their move.

Pepper they found quickly. She’d blown through two assailants outside Tony’s lab. Her hands shook as the Extremis surged up them, healing whatever wounds she’d sustained.

“Sam! Maria! You’re all right!”

Sam whistled at her handiwork. ‘You’ve gotta teach me how to do that.”

Gunshots rang out above their heads.

“If we all survive this, you got yourself a deal,” she shouted in order to be heard.

An explosion lower in the building knocked them to the ground. Pepper got to her feet first. She scrambled to one of J.A.R.V.I.S’s consoles. “The lab!”

The explosion was followed by a roar that Sam mused could probably be heard from space.

Someone had let the Hulk out to play.

And then all hell broke loose.


	10. Chapter 10

Bucky couldn’t sleep.

Nightmares plagued him when he tried and lingered when he woke. He didn’t dream of the voice much anymore though he still didn’t have a name to put with it. His dreams tended toward memories when he wasn’t Bucky, when Hydra was in control. He dreamed about missions where innocent people died by his hands. Those usually found him either so twisted up in his sheets he couldn’t figure out how to extricate himself or leaning against the toilet dry heaving for hours.

He learned how to navigate the internet easily enough and searched the declassified S.H.I.E.L.D. files for information that might help trigger his memories. Nothing came up that he wanted to see. It just made him sick.

At least during the war, the horrible things he’d done were done by his hand. He understood and accepted the cost of war, most of all because it would keep Steve safe. He was in control. When he watched security camera feeds, Hydra hidden cameras, and saw what he did, things he barely remembered doing, he wanted to cry. That wasn’t him but those were his hand, his weapons, that so easily snuffed out people’s lives.

The only thing he could do, the only thing he knew how to do, was to track down the people responsible. With his two shadows, physically hunting down leads was impractical. They’d be better off not knowing what he was doing. It’d keep them safer and would therefore keep Steve safer.

That left tracking down leads online. Through exposed files and from whatever he could remember. Hydra’s compulsion to record everything turned out to be his best friend. He could trace his movements back to base and pinpoint on a map where that base was. He dug up archived footage from that base, from several bases, dating back to the first in Kiev.

The cameras were still active in the Kiev base so he rewound the footage, curious how far back it went. Answer: not far. The time stamp on the first seconds of recording was the date of the helicarrier incident. He watched the cameras turn on, one by one, and the technicians leave the building. They were waiting for something.

When he saw Steve and his shadow, a man whose name he didn’t know and didn’t really care to know, walk through the cells and find what looked like a journal, his stomach bottomed out. Hydra had been planning this, planning to let him go, planning to use him to trap Steve and the rest of those people at the Avengers Tower. All along. Even when he thought he was free of their leash, they were still using him.

It had to stop.

He was going to stop it.

Slipping past those two tails was deceptively simple. From what he’d read, the few people that thought he even existed called him a ghost. Being a ghost came as naturally to him as protecting Steve. They were instincts. He wasn’t sure where either really came from. Although he remembered large chunks from the war, anything before the war was almost completely blank. That was the time he really wanted back and feared he never would.

The man and woman pair weren’t his only tails either. Hydra had their own tails on him and a couple he assumed were from the American government. He slipped those too. Fuck them all.

He returned to that bunker below the bank, in the vaults. The one he was sure he remembered. The one where they last wiped his mind. There were weapons in those vaults, weapons he’d used before and that he was going to once at least once more.

The cameras in the bunker wouldn’t monitor his movement. He disabled them before he stepped foot inside. Hydra wanted to track him? They’d suffer just as every other government suffered because Bucky did not want to be found. Not until he was ready to be found.

Weapons packed into his duffel bag, wrapped in his spare clothes, he left the bunker. He couldn’t go back to his apartment and he couldn’t use the car Stark had lent him. That left him one option: steal a car. He knew the route back to New York. The city called to him like a beacon. In some part of his life, it was home. He hoped it could be home again.

 

***

As he drove onto the island of Manhattan—and really drive was a bad term, more accurately he sat in traffic in the Queens tunnel to get onto Manhattan—he didn’t feel like he was going home. The information he’d dug up from old army records and from Hydra’s databases told him he was from Brooklyn. Being here triggered no new memories though.

He pushed the disappointment aside. There were more important things to focus on. Hydra about to spring their trap was at the top of his list. If his plan worked, the tails from Stark’s tower would return to New York and regroup with Steve and the others. They’d need to be at full strength to repel Hydra’s forces.

And he was going to help them.

One good thing about downtown New York was the high rises. There were plenty of roofs to choose from to set up a sniper nest. He didn’t have much time to figure out which one would best suit his needs.

By the time he’d settled on a roof, one that gave him a clear line of sight to the majority of the upper floors of the frankly ugly ass building that housed Stark, Steve, and the rest, he knew Hydra was ready to make its move. It was going to be big. It was going to be bad. 

***

He didn’t realize just how bad. 

The vibrations from the explosion rattled his rifle. And well, the green monster was new. Red Skull, he remembered. Steve angry, he remembered. This was like nothing he’d ever experienced. He kept the monster in his scope, watching to see if he hurt anyone. The thing threw Hydra people off the side of the building like they were pebbles. That was a plus.

It approached a very familiar figure armed with a circular, brightly colored shield. Bucky’s breath hitched. Don’t hurt him, he thought desperately. If it decided to go after Steve, there was nothing he could do. 

“Look at you,” the nameless voice whispered. “You broke free just to watch your best friend die?” It laughed. “You thought you could change anything? You’re just a trained dog we let off its leash. You’re nothing!”

The Asset squeezed his eyes shut, hard enough to make them water. “Stop it. Just shut up. You’re wrong!”

“Am I? What use are you if you can’t even save the man you love?”

Bucky snapped his eyes open. The voice screamed and railed against him taking over but he was desperate. He was pissed. Steeling himself, he looked back through the scope on his rifle. 

The green monster, bent over on its knuckles like an ape, seemed to be listening intently on whatever Steve was telling it. That was…unexpected.

Steve’s friend with the wing suit arrived with two women. One, he recognized as one of his tails. She had a pistol in each hand and an expression angry enough to kill. The other woman he didn’t know but her skin was on fire. Or…something.

“Rogers, who the hell are these people?” he muttered.

Stark flew past in his metal suit. Wing-man joined him in the air. Eyes and ears. Not bad. He grudgingly respected them.

They saw what he noticed. In the burning remnants of what looked to be a laboratory, several Hydra soldiers were digging through rubble. More than several. A whole platoon. How had they gotten so many men inside?

As Steve and the others worked down to the lab, Bucky worked on picking the soldiers off, one at a time. The fight once the two sides met up was quick and brutal. Gunshots rang out. Some clanged against Steve’s shield. Others, against Stark’s armor. A few landed on the monster and had no effect aside from pissing it off. The woman on fire was joined by another woman, also on fire, who had crawled from the rubble. That amount of debris that had been on top of her—she should have been dead. Worse, she should have been a pancake. From the back of the lab, the red-haired woman from the bridge and his other tail took out stray soldiers.

A well-oiled fighting machine. They’d done this before, Bucky realized.

Steve and the woman from the rubble ended up back to back. Once her skin turned back to something resembling human, Bucky remembered her from his short stay in the Tower. One of the Twins. A soldier yanked her forward. She twisted from his grasp and reached for exposed skin. Fire in her hands, she burned him from the inside out. Steve’s back was left exposed, an error a couple of soldiers meant to take advantage of.

The woman called out to get Steve’s attention but, dealing with soldiers himself, he couldn’t turn around. Bucky settled and exhaled and everything around him stilled and clicked. This felt so familiar. 

He fired off two shots in rapid succession. Hearing the shots, Steve twisted around. Both he and the woman stared at the bodies between them. They were the last of Hydra’s small army. Somehow, they’d won.

***

Steve stared at the bodies. He couldn’t process what they meant. He knew but his brain felt so sluggish, suspended somewhere between giddiness and disbelief. But he caught Rory’s tired smile and he knew.

Sam landed beside him, his wings tucking back into the pack on his back. He surveyed the carnage. “Looks like you were right. He came back when you needed him.”

The three looked out over New York, straining to see someone too far away to see.

Steve sighed and helped Rory to her feet. “He’s not back.” It was too much to hope for Bucky’s return. He’d helped them but Steve had no way of knowing if that was really Bucky or just the Winter Soldier, out for revenge.

“Man, he was making shots that rival world records. You don’t do that just for a vendetta. He could have picked a fight with Hydra anywhere in the world but he settles for right here in old New York.” He laughed at the expression on Steve’s face. “Yeah, you said all that out loud.”

“Everyone okay up there?” Pepper called out.

People started sounding off. Natasha, Clint, Hill, Tony all spoke up. Steve felt a fresh wave of relief at each name. Rory answered, “I’m here with Sam and Cap.”

“Anyone seen Banner or Nate?”

Bruce’s voice echoed over the rubble. “I’m alright. Hell of a headache though.”

“What about my brother? J.A.R.V.I.S?”

The AI replied, “Sensors indicate your brother is in not within Avengers Tower.”

“Wait, he’s not here? Where is he?” Steve asked.

“Indications are that he left with four operatives prior to the laboratory explosion.”

Steve continued, “Willing or by force?” Rory sank to the ground in his peripheral vision. None of the possible scenarios were good. They all understood that. Sam knelt beside her, trying to calm her down.

“Unable to make that verification, sir. My apologies.”

Things had been going too smoothly, he mused. This was a bigger hitch than he anticipated though.

Natasha carefully climbed over the rubble. “You realize what this means?”

Steve nodded. Whether Nate had left willingly or by force, Hydra had access to a lot of information on Bucky they wouldn’t otherwise have had. “We have problems.”

“We need to regroup. Hydra’s been three steps ahead of us from the beginning. They’ve had us chasing our tails.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” Sam remarked from his position beside Rory. She was shivering and staring at nothing. The first physical symptoms of shock.

“You take the fight to them,” a familiar voice replied from their left.

Steve turned his head so fast, he felt muscles pull. He’d regret that later. Bucky, and it was decidedly Bucky, was leaning against what used to be a window frame, his rifle slung over his shoulder and his duffel bag at his feet. The world tried to turn sideways but Steve managed to keep everything together, at least for the moment.

Bucky’s sudden appearance didn’t seem to faze Natasha. “How do we go about doing that?”

Bucky shrugged. “Hydra has bases all over the world. Take ‘em out. They’ll be too busy dealing with you to focus on anything else.” He glanced down at Rory. “That’s the only way to get her brother back.”

Steve met everyone’s gaze that was standing there. If he lingered a second or two longer on Bucky, no one commented. Hell, who would blame him? “Alright,” he conceded. “Conference room in ten.”


	11. Chapter 11

Everyone gathered at the conference table sported cuts and bruises. They were filthy. Tony and Sam had managed to get out of their machinery and Banner had found a spare change of clothes from somewhere. Bucky stood off to the side, unusually quiet.

Tony spoke first. “Ok, who here thinks we might need to call in the big “big guy”?” He turned to Bruce. “Sorry, man. You get outranked on this one.”

Bruce waved him off.

Steve looked thoughtful. “You think we’re gonna need him?”

“Well, they did just retrieve the data they need to engineer an army of super soldiers,” Natasha pointed out. “It couldn’t hurt. Plus, he has friends. Maybe they could come too.”

Steve knew calling Thor was a good idea. Now, it boiled down to logistics. “How do we reach him?” 

Hill stepped forward and activated the display above the conference table. Two faces appeared. “Jane Foster and Erik Selvig are in London, working with Oxford’s astrophysics department to figure out what the hell happened last November. They’ll have the best chance of contacting him.”

“Selvig? Why does that name sound familiar?” Pepper asked. She didn’t recognize the face floating above the table.

“He was the scientist whose brain Loki scrambled,” Clint replied drily. Steve didn’t blame him. Loki was still on Clint’s hit list after the attack on New York. “Last I heard, he was streaking through Stonehenge.”

“It’s Loki. Is anyone surprised?” Tony raised his hands defensively when everyone glared at him. “I’m just saying. Hey, speaking of-“ he pointed to Clint “-why aren’t you streaking through Stonehenge?”

Clint tried to reply but Pepper cut him off. “Tony. Focus.”

“I have a question,” Bucky spoke up, stepping toward the table. “Who the hell is Loki?”

Hill dragged a separate file from the side of the display and opened the contents. Pictures of Loki from Stuttgart and images and videos from the battle in New York appeared and played simultaneously.

Steve met his gaze across the table. “Remember the Tesseract?” 

Bucky nodded.

“They come from the same place.”

“And the guy you’re calling? He from the same place too?”

The images on the screen morphed from Loki’s file to Thor’s. Videos from New Mexico and New York, along with images and stats gathered through S.H.I.E.L.D., appeared. Hill walked around the display. “He is but Thor is about as far from Loki as you can get. If he can help us, he will.”

“Ok, Hill, you contact Foster and Selvig. Get that started.” 

Hill nodded and strode from the room.

Steve turned to Tony. “You need to figure out what went wrong with the security. How the hell did Hydra get that many people inside?”

“I’ll have J.A.R.V.I.S. work backwards, see what we can find. My best guess though? Without digging through the data? It was an inside job.”

Pepper gasped. “Not Nate?”

Steve sighed. “It’s a possibility to consider.” He looked from Pepper to Tony. “Pepper, why don’t you go sit with Rory? She shouldn’t be alone. Tony, the minute you find something, let us know.”

Tony saluted, for once, not ironically. “Bruce, why don’t you and me let the pros handle Hydra?”

Bruce was only too happy to get out of the room, away from Bucky. He needed time to unwind from hulking out.

That left Natasha, Clint, Sam, and Bucky to come up with a plan to hunt Hydra down. And find their wayward doctor.

Steve walked to their side of the table and motioned to Bucky. “Ok, Buck, you’re up.”

Bucky approached the table but his confidence slipped when he faced the display controls. 

Steve leaned in and whispered, not missing how Bucky flinched, “What do you need?”

“A map?”

While he didn’t have a lot of experience with Tony’s fancy displays, they were similar to what S.H.I.E.L.D. had had so Steve could work the basics. He closed the file on Thor and went back to the home screen. From the touch screen on the desk, he selected a map and made it three-dimensional. “That work?”

Bucky scanned the touch screen and the map Steve pulled up. “It should.” He reached out and where his finger intersected the display, a light appeared. “Wow. You got all the toys, don’t you?”

Steve ducked his head to hide a smile. This was the Bucky he knew, the one who was sarcastic and very openly jealous about the smallest things. It gave him hope.

“Okay,” Bucky said as he opened a couple of files from Stark’s database. The map erupted with red dots. “These are the Hydra bases I know of.”

Sam whistled. “There’s gotta be over a hundred.”

“Over two hundred. I counted.”

No one said anything to that. What could they say? It spoke volumes to Bucky’s state of mind that he’d counted them.

Natasha zoomed the map in on just North America. “We’ve got fourteen known bases in the States. That’d be the best place to start.”

Steve agreed. He asked Bucky, “How many people are usually at one of these bases?”

Bucky shrugged. “It depends. A lot of them didn’t have a lot, from what I remember. This one-“ he pointed at the dot in Colorado “-and this one-“ he pointed to Northern Canada “-are much larger. Probably a couple hundred soldiers, scientists.”

“The smaller bases will be the easiest to take out,” Clint observed. “We could start there. See where we stand after.”

There was general agreement from the others. Steve nodded. “Get some rest. We’ll get started in the morning.”

Barton picked up his bow before he left. 

Sam gave Steve a worried look, one that Steve identified as the “I’m concerned this isn’t going to end well” type. 

Natasha offered him one of her rare smiles. “I’m two floors down if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Nat.”

“Good luck, Rogers.”

Before Steve could process what was happening, he was left alone in the room with Bucky.

“You still got it, don’t you?” Bucky quipped, leaning against the table.

Steve shook his head, laughing. “Always with my non-existent skill at talking to women.” He turned the table’s touch screen off and the display disappeared. “Natasha’s just a good friend.”

“I recognize her,” Bucky admitted.

Steve wasn’t sure hiding the truth would do his friend any favors. “You dealt with her a couple of times. She was the on the bridge,” they both knew what that referred to, “and a few years ago you shot her outside Odessa.” When Bucky didn’t say anything and Steve saw those horrors playing across his face, he added, “I think that’s how you get into her graces to begin with. You should have seen what happened between her and the Hulk.”

It drew Bucky out. He didn’t laugh but it was something. “That what you call the green monster?”

“You saw him earlier?” 

Bucky nodded. “What’s his story?”

Steve moved to leave the room, hoping to continue the conversation en route to his apartments. Bucky didn’t follow. “Buck? You comin’?” 

“Where are you going? Cos I don’t have a-a place to go.” He sounded so lost, so not like the person Steve knew.

“I have a whole floor to myself. There’s enough room for five or six people.” A thought occurred to him and, while he should have been upset by it, it just hurt him. “Did you think I was going to turn you out?”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” came the quiet answer.

Steve walked over to his friend who wouldn’t look him in the eye. He bent over, trying to get him to look up. Bucky flinched again, a minute movement most people wouldn’t catch. Steve wasn’t most people. “Bucky, please look at me.”

Bucky finally looked up. The tears welling up fell down his face at the movement. 

Steve wiped them away without a thought, his thumb leaving a far different mark on Bucky’s face. “I will never turn you out. You’re my best friend.”

“Steve, I killed people. I can’t even remember all of them. There were videos online but I-I don’t remember being there. I sh-shouldn’t be here…” His voice gave way to dry sobs.

The conference room, Steve decided, was no longer a suitable place for this conversation. He wrapped an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, hugging him tightly, and led him to the elevators. He didn’t let go until they were on his floor, walking into his suite.

Taking care of Bucky in this state was eerily easy. He was blank, compliant. And the rage Steve kept tucked away, reserved especially for Hydra, threatened to boil over. Keeping busy was all that stood between him and an outburst that would have rivaled the Hulk. He sat Bucky on the sofa and covered him with one of the countless blankets Pepper insisted he buy. Loath as he was to leave Bucky alone, he made a mad dash into his room for a notebook and his pencils. He settled on the floor on the opposite side of the sofa from Bucky and flipped the TV on. One of the channels was airing Jurassic Park so he left it there while he drew.

He’d seen that one.

His mind shut down as he drew. The pencil danced across the paper of its own accord, the image slowly taking shape with no conscious thought from its creator. He only realized what he was drawing when he finished. Bucky, with his hair long and his metal arm. Bucky as he was now.

Steve glanced at the other end of the sofa. Bucky’s eyes were closed, his breathing even. Asleep, the worry lines and bags under his eyes faded. He looked younger. He looked more like Bucky had before.

He retreated to the kitchen. From there, he had a clear view of the whole living room, Bucky included. The bottle of whiskey in the refrigerator had his name on it. He pulled it out and poured himself a glass. Nothing like he’d had when Stark confronted him. He’d been trying, and failing, to get drunk. That was a luxury he no longer had.

Bucky twisted on the sofa, muttering in his sleep. Half of what he said was in Russian. Steve couldn’t understand that part. The half that was in English he could understand. Steve desperately wished he couldn’t. 

“No, don’t.”

“Stop.”

“Please.”

“Steve, where are you?”

Guilt curled around Steve’s heart. “Damn it, Bucky. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he whispered into his glass. He stood slowly, hesitantly, leaving his glass on the counter.

Waking someone from a nightmare was never easy. Sam had found that out the couple of times he’d woken Steve up from nightmares. Steve had almost strangled him. Twice. 

Steve knelt beside Bucky and gripped his shoulder gently. “Bucky, wake up.”

Nothing. Bucky thrashed against some nightmare assailant.

“Bucky! It’s just a dream. Wake up!”

Bucky finally did. Except it wasn’t really Bucky at the helm. He lunged off the sofa, a knife suddenly in his hand, and knocked Steve to the floor. “Where were you?” he roared. “When I was rotting for years—for years!—in some dungeon in Russia, where were you?”

Steve pushed against Bucky’s arm, keeping away from the knife pressing toward his throat. “I wasn’t where I needed to be. I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry. I let you down.”

Bucky snarled. He pressed the knife closer.

“Bucky, you told me once that you’d be with me till the end of the line. You were. But I couldn’t be with you. I fucked up.”

His words had an effect. Whatever was controlling Bucky, the Winter Soldier, faded. Bucky, the real Bucky, woke up. He scrambled off Steve and dropped the knife. “Steve?” Realization dawned on him. “I did-didn’t mean it. I swear.”

Steve rolled up to sit on his knees. He reached out to comfort his friend but Bucky backed away.

“Don’t. Come near me.” Bucky curled up against the sofa.

Steve thought back to the fight they had in the bar all those years ago. How he hated being the strong one in their relationship. That wasn’t how things were supposed to work. Now, here he was having to be the strong one again. 

He leaned back to sit cross-legged. “Buck, you remember that time we went to Coney Island? We rode all those rides and I threw up? You remember how pissed I was?”

Bucky paused. “Yeah,” he admitted, sounding surprised. “Yeah, I do.”

“Will you do one thing for me? Hold on to those memories. Whenever you’re worried about hurting me, go back to those, okay?”

Bucky nodded, shaking and crying. 

Steve reached out again and, when Bucky offered no further protests, hugged him tightly. “It’s okay,” he whispered over and over again, massaging Bucky’s back.

“I keep hearing his voice,” Bucky whispered once he’d calmed down.

Steve pulled back. “Whose voice?”

“The man that told me to kill you.”

Steve’s breath caught. He meant Pierce. If Fury hadn’t put two bullets into the man, Steve would have been next in line. “He’s dead. With a chest full of lead.” 

“Oh. That’s, uh, that’s good.”

They sat side by side against the sofa. “You hear any other voices, Buck?”

Without hesitation, Bucky replied, “Yours.” He leaned against Steve’s shoulder. “Always yours.”

Steve rested his head on top of Bucky’s. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too.”

***

Morning came. Natasha entered the apartment with the intention of waking them and found them still sitting against the couch with the TV still on some crappy infomercial. They’d fallen asleep there. She smiled and left without saying a word. A text message would suffice.


	12. Chapter 12

Bucky woke with a stiff neck to find himself alone in the living room. He heard the distant sound of a shower running and wondered how Steve had gotten up without waking him. He wondered how he’d gone the whole night without waking, period. That hadn’t happened since before. Nightmares always woke him, never to a happy outcome.

Since he had a little time, he examined his surroundings. The living room was nice, high-end. The décor was not very Steve. It screamed Stark—well, not so much Stark but Pepper, if he recalled her name correctly. The kitchen, too, was modern and very spacious. Leaning more toward the dark oak and black appliance color scheme, it seemed very comfortable.

He stood and flexed. His left arm whirred and he rubbed it. The metal plates lay flat against the gears underneath. The prosthetic had its uses but Bucky found himself hating it. It was a reminder of a part of his life he didn’t want to remember.

Thirst and hunger finally got the better of his hesitance to actually explore. He walked behind the bar separating the living room from the kitchen and began opening cabinets.

“Glasses are in the third cabinet,” Steve informed him. 

Bucky startled but kept things together enough to not spin around at the sudden arrival of his friend. He reached into the specified cabinet and grabbed two glasses. “I thought we were getting an early start.” When he turned to hand Steve a glass, he startled for a different reason entirely. 

Steve was a T-shirt and khakis, drying his hair with a towel in one hand. He took a glass from Bucky with the other. “Natasha texted me about fifteen minutes ago. Figured I’d let you sleep.”

“Thanks,” Bucky replied absentmindedly. Stupid, he chastised himself. Get yourself together, Buck. Pierce’s words had shaken him more than he cared to admit. “You got food in this fancy kitchen too?” He forgot how endearing Steve’s laugh was, especially when he tried to hide the accompanying smile.

“I might have something that won’t take too long to make.” Steve draped the towel over a barstool. He moved through the kitchen with the ease of someone who knew where everything was. 

Bucky stood to one side and let him work. It seemed strange that Steve knew how to cook. For as long as Bucky knew him, neither of them could really afford real food. The Depression hit everyone hard but single widowed mothers were hit hardest. Many nights Bucky went a little hungry making sure Steve had enough to eat. The memories threatened to overwhelm him. He gripped the bar so tight, the granite cracked.

Steve glanced over his shoulder at the noise, turning around more fully when he saw what happened. “You okay?” 

“I-I just- I need-“ Except he didn’t know what he needed. He just couldn’t bear having Steve look at him like that. He fled the room down a hallway without knowing or caring where it led. He wasn’t sure what it meant that Steve didn’t call out after him.

The hallway ended at a door that was partially pulled shut. He pushed it open with his right hand. His metal arm he kept glued to his side, afraid he’d break something else. The room behind the door had to be Steve’s. It was the only room in the entire suite that felt like coming home. 

The bed was made up. It looked like it had barely been slept in, if at all. As Bucky walked around the bed, he saw why. A pillow and blanket lay folded up on the floor. Steve still slept on the floor.

Bucky glanced to the short bookcase beside the bed. On the bottom shelf was Steve’s record collection. Some of the artists rang a bell, from before. Steve managed to carry a piece of the past forward with him. Bucky ignored the twinge of jealousy that came with that realization.

On the desk sitting cattycorner from the bookshelf were Steve’s sketch notebooks. He flipped through the topmost one. There were several portraits of his companions, each so lifelike, eyes full of emotion. Steve always was good at reading people. He turned past those portraits and discovered one of a much older woman. He stared at it, trying to figure out who she was. Only when he saw the name hastily scribbled in the bottom corner did it make sense.

“Did she die?” he asked. He’d heard Steve walking down the hall. Anymore, it was next to impossible for anyone to sneak up on him. Provided he wasn’t too distracted.

Steve hesitated before replying. His voice quiet, he answered, “Not yet.”

“You’ve been to see her,” Bucky commented. It wasn’t a question. The level of detail in her portrait wasn’t something Steve could pull out of his head.

“I try to go every couple of weeks. Nurse says the company does her good.”

Something in Steve’s voice got Bucky’s attention. He turned to look at his friend. The sadness he saw wasn’t the sadness that came with tears. No, any tears Steve had to shed over Peggy had been shed. Only the weariness that came after remained. 

“She’s got Alzheimer’s.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Bucky admitted. It didn’t sound good. 

“She’s losing her memory. Every time I visit, it’s as if the last however many times didn’t happen. We end up playing out the same conversation. I don’t know how her daughter does it.”

Bucky heard the word daughter and backpedaled. “Daughter?”

The smile Steve gave him had only a trace of bitterness. “Life didn’t stop because I nosedived into the ice, Buck.” He shook his head, mask sliding back in place. “Anyway, I came to tell you breakfast was ready.”

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

Steve nodded. Bucky watched him as he walked away. He sat the notebook back on the desk and picked up another that caught his eye. It was older, its pages more yellow. The portraits in that one made his breath catch. Dum Dum Dugan, Frenchie, Gabe, Monty, Jim. The Howling Commandos. Steve’s friends. His friends. Friends they’d both lost to time. 

And there were several of him. More than several. In some dark recess of his mind, where the Asset was tucked, he knew what that meant.

Bucky shut the notebook and headed into the kitchen. That was just one more thing he was going to ignore. As he opened the door to the hallway, the delicious aroma of bacon greeted him.

“Where did you learn to cook?” he asked, sliding onto a barstool.

“Same place everyone else does,” Steve quipped. “The internet.” He placed a loaded plate in front of Bucky. “Anyway, you never complained about my cooking before.”

“Never had a lot of options. It was either eat whatever crap you fixed and decided to call food or not eat.” Much as he complained though, he still shoveled the plate full of food into his mouth with both hands. Metaphorically. Food messed with his arm’s gears.

“Well, you better not be complaining now. It’s the best we’ll be eating for a while,” Steve replied between bites.

“Any food is better than I’ve had for… a long time,” Bucky admitted. From the garbage he’d had to live on until Steve found him to however Hydra fed him. He couldn’t remember ever eating so it couldn’t have been pleasant.

Steve leaned over the counter and gripped Bucky’s metal arm. 

Artificial nerves sent signals to Bucky’s brain so he felt pressure. But he couldn’t feel Steve’s hand, its warmth, anything.

“We’ll fix that,” Steve promised. “Besides, Sam whips up great barbeque.”

Bucky steeled himself against the jealousy that flared up. It was stupid. He knew Sam and Steve were friends, just as he and Steve were friends.

“You know that’s not all it is,” Pierce taunted him.

Bucky closed his eyes, struggling to keep his breathing even. Not now. Not here. Steve laid his free hand on Bucky’s cheek, chasing Pierce away. Bucky’s eyes shot open. 

“He’s not here, Buck. Whatever he’s telling you, you don’t have to listen to him anymore.” And Steve said it with such conviction, Bucky had to believe him.

When Steve let go and went back to his breakfast, Bucky still felt the ghosts of sensations where Steve’s hands had been. But it kept Pierce from coming back so he couldn’t complain.

Steve went to pack, leaving Bucky to clean up the dishes. “I’m assuming you can figure out how to operate the sink?” he’d teased, clearing the air. His laughter echoed from down the hall when Bucky called out after him, “Asshole!”

***

They were packed when Natasha knocked on the door. 

“You boys ready?” she asked, smirk firmly in place. “Clint and Sam are waiting in the garage.” 

Steve rolled his eyes, slung his bag over his shoulder and locked the suite up behind them. 

As they walked to the elevator, Natasha voiced another concern. “We’re taking two cars. Hope that’s ok.”

“You and Clint taking the ‘vette?” Steve wondered. 

Natasha nodded. 

“I’m hurt,” he replied, sarcastically reacting to an imaginary wound to the heart.

Bucky whispered to Steve once they were safely out of her earshot. “You sure you got nothing going on there?’

Steve shoved him playfully, shoulder against shoulder. Bucky laughed and Steve thought it was the best sound he’d ever heard.

Sam was waiting for them by their car, a sleek. Black SUV.

“Looks like one of Fury’s vehicles,” Steve remarked.

“Nat did say Stark got this from S.H.I.E.L.D.’s old arsenal. I didn’t ask how. Not sure I wanna know,” Sam explained, throwing his bags into the trunk.

Steve hopped into the driver’s seat. “It’s Stark. I’m not sure there’s anything he wouldn’t do.” 

Neither Bucky nor Sam moved to get in the passenger seat. 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Buck, you can take shotgun first. We’ll rotate when we get closer to where we’re going.”

Bucky didn’t move until Sam told him, “That means you get the front seat.” 

It amused Steve to no end hearing Bucky complain about modern phrases. He couldn’t help but make one final dig before they left. “You do know that term’s been around since the 1800s, right?”

Bucky refused to speak for a long time.

***

Steve lost Natasha to the city traffic almost as soon as they pulled out of Stark Tower garage. In her smaller, much more powerful car, she maneuvered past other cars like they weren’t even there. It didn’t matter though. They’d get to the same place at the same time eventually. He did manage to spout out a few swears when the traffic dug through even his extreme, near godlike amount of patience. Bucky eyed him from the passenger seat. Steve didn’t have to fully see his expression to pick up on the “what the hell” vibes he was giving off.

Once they left the city though, traffic cleared and the drive went much smoother. 

Steve glanced over at Bucky. “Didn’t get a chance to answer your question last night.”

Bucky wasn’t sure where he was going with this conversation so he hesitantly asked what Steve was talking about.

“About the Hulk,” he clarified. “His story.”

Sam scooted forward and stuck his head between the front seats. “I’d be curious to know his back story too. Any of them, actually. I’m trusting these guys with my life. I’d like to know if I’m seriously fucking up.”

They spent the rest of the drive, even after they switched Bucky and Sam, discussing the rest of the Avengers. How Bruce came to be the Hulk, how Tony went from manufacturing weapons to working in clean energy and other humanitarian fields, Thor’s massive issues with his brother, and what little Steve knew about Clint and Natasha.

Bucky asked about New York as well. He was still working on wrapping his head around the whole aliens business.

Steve told them without complaint. By the end, Bucky was staring at him with some horrible mix of awe and despair and Steve wasn’t sure how to process it. It was too similar to the look Bucky had given him once they’d returned to camp after he’d busted hundreds of soldiers out of Hydra’s base. Bucky probably thought he hadn’t caught that look, probably thought he hadn’t caught this one either.

He didn’t know how to talk about it either but he didn’t have to just yet. Pulling into an abandoned warehouse parking lot off a country road in upstate New York after Natasha’s corvette saved him from dwelling on it.

They parked their cars out of sight of the road and geared up with enough weaponry for a small army. Bucky’s information indicated the Hydra base was about two miles away from the road, hidden in the woods.

Natasha summed up what everyone was thinking. “I did not sign up for hiking.”

“Could be worse,” Clint pointed out. “It could be raining.”

A peal of thunder rattled them. 

“Don’t jinx it,” Sam muttered.

Steve slung his shield over his shoulder. “Rain or no rain, let’s just get these bastards.”


	13. Chapter 13

Sam really wanted to strangle Clint in all his smugness as they trudged through the dense undergrowth in the pouring rain. Of the five of them, the archer was the only one not upset or fazed by the torrential downpour. It almost had Sam missing the Middle East with its heat and its definite lack of rain. Besides, none of their gear was fully waterproof.

He fell in beside Bucky for most of the hike. The poor man looked miserable, hunched over, with his arm tucked as far under him as he could get it. Sam shouldered out of his outer jacket and slung it over Bucky’s shoulders.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

Sam just nodded. “Anytime, man.” He figured if Bucky hadn’t killed Steve in the night, maybe—just maybe—they’d come out all right.

The Hydra base, when they saw it, wasn’t awe-inspiring. It wasn’t much of anything but a tiny bunker. Had they not been following Bucky’s directions, they would never have found it.

“It doesn’t look like much,” Natasha commented.

“Hydra learned never to be conspicuous,” Bucky explained. “To get things done, they had to do them covertly.” He didn’t have to add that he had been a part of that mission statement. They all knew it.

“So what are we looking at?” Steve asked.

“Standard underground bunker. Couple of main hallways, side rooms. If we can get to the transformer and take out the power, we’d have an edge,” Bucky answered. “There should be an access hatch on the other side of the bunker.”

“Okay, Clint, Natasha, that’s your objective. Bucky, you’re with me. Sam, you watch our backs.”

Clint slung his bow forward and notched an arrow in the string. “On it, Cap.”

“Oh, and Clint?” 

Clint paused. 

“A little fire wouldn’t go amiss either.”

“Anything to help, Cap,” Clint replied with a grin. He and Natasha vanished around the bunker.

Steve waited until he heard an explosion. He yanked the metal door open. Bucky stood to his left, Sam to his right. 

Sam saw how they were standing and groaned. “Don’t you say it. Don’t you-“

“On your left.”

“Motherf- man, I told you not to say it!”

Steve entered the darkened corridor, flashlight in hand, Bucky right on his heels, leaving Sam to mutter and fume at the door. 

“Son of a bitch.” He followed them into the bunker.

Which was eerily empty.

***

Bucky drew his gun from its holster. His boots echoed in the metal hallway. The only reason he didn’t bolt out of the place was Steve standing beside him. “I don’t get it. Where is everyone?”

“Anyone else think Hydra’s just playing with us?” Sam asked from behind them.

Steve scanned the hall. “Yeah, and I don’t like it.” 

Neither did Bucky. Just the thought that Hydra was playing them, using him to get to his friends, to get to Steve, made him nauseated.

“Well, we’re here. Might as well look around.” Steve strode down the hall, flashlight illuminating his path. 

Bucky kept close to him. That and having Sam at his back helped him feel a little safer.

Most of the rooms had been emptied. File cabinets and shelves stood silent and watchful but offered nothing to the trio walking past them.

Steve sighed. “They knew we were coming.”

Bucky hated that this fell through, that their first attempt at taking the fight to Hydra just proved once again how far ahead Hydra was. He’d let them down.

They came back into the hall and Sam opened a door that was half propped open. Bucky took one look inside and shattered.

The countless times he’d been in a chair like the one before him rushed him, overwhelmed him. He screamed, the sound meshing and weaving with countless times he’d screamed, all the times Hydra wiped him, all that pain. His muscles clenched. He fell to the ground, his gun clattering uselessly against the floor.

Steve was beside him in an instant but Bucky had taken a back seat. The Asset was in control and he was terrified. The Asset didn’t know Steve or Sam so when Steve tried to comfort who he thought was his friend, the Asset lashed out. He threw Steve back against wall. 

“Don’t touch me!”

Steve rolled to his feet, moaning in pain. “Bucky, it’s okay. You’re safe.” He looked to Sam, who took off down the hallway to look for Clint and Natasha. 

“Stop calling me that!” the Asset roared, kicking Steve back.

Steve groaned into the floor grating and coughed. He tried a different tactic. “What do I call you then? Who are you?”

The Asset halted. “I-I don’t know.” He glanced around frantically, helplessly. “I don’t know who I am. I’m nothing.”  
Steve approached him slowly, very slowly. “You’re not nothing,” he said and he kept repeating it. “Do you trust me on that?”

No was the correct answer. That was the answer they’d beaten into him. No. No. No. But when Steve asked him to trust him, the Asset nodded.

“I asked you to call on something wherever you get lost. You remember that? Coney Island?”

The words meant…something. If only he could remember… He slid down the wall and wrapped his arms around his knees. Why couldn’t he remember?

Steve shifted to sit next to him, facing him slightly. He didn’t flinch when Steve reached out and hugged him. The hug wasn’t tight or constricting. He could get out if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to. He was home.

Bucky came back slowly, in pieces. Steve’s arms around him were warm, protective. The whole situation felt wrong somehow, subverted, but he was too emotionally drained to care. He slid his arms around Steve and held onto his friend for dear life.

Steve hugged him tighter. “Hey, Buck,” he whispered.

Regret and shame crept into his mind. He ducked his head against Steve’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Steve traced circles into his back. He kept repeating, “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Time stretched longer and longer and still they sat there. 

Sam returned with Clint and Natasha in tow, all expecting a fight. They stared at the scene in front of them. “You guys alright?” Sam ventured hesitantly.

Steve didn’t look up to reply. “Yeah, give us a minute.”

“That’s about all we’ve got, Steve,” Natasha warned. “We’ve laid down explosives.” 

“We’ll be out,” he assured her.

She glanced at Bucky and her mask slipped off. Concern, pity, understanding replaced her normally cool demeanor. Whether Bucky knew it or not, she had his back just like she had Steve’s. “Take care of him,” she mouthed so only Steve could see before herding Sam and Clint out of the bunker.

Steve pulled back and rested his forehead against Bucky’s. Bucky’s breathing had evened out slightly.

“We need to get outta here, Buck. Can you stand?”

“I-I don’t think so,” Bucky admitted.

Steve shifted his arm under Bucky’s and hoisted him up. “You’re a lot heavier than I remember.”

When Bucky didn’t replay at all, Steve rushed him outside. They needed to get him back to the Tower. Quickly.

They escaped seconds before Natasha’s explosives detonated, leveling the empty bunker.

***

The drive back to the city was silent. Sam drove, freeing Steve to ride in the back seat with Bucky. Bucky didn’t say a word. He just stared at the window, not out the window. The scenery passed by but Bucky didn’t see any of it. Sam glanced in the rearview mirror a couple of times. Bucky’s right arm stretched over the middle seat, Steve’s hand gripping his.

He helped them both up to Steve’s suite, saying nothing.

Bucky had regained enough strength to walk. He slipped away from Steve and stalked off to the balcony. 

Steve tried to follow but Sam held him back. 

“Don’t, man. Let me. Go blow off steam. Spar with Nat or something.” Steve tried to protest but Sam cut him off, “You’ve trusted me this far. Trust me now.”

He made sure Steve left the suite then followed Bucky to the balcony. Bucky sat on the lowest step leading out to a bricked patio. Sam sat a ways away from him on the same step to let him have his space.

“I was expecting Steve,” Bucky commented quietly.

Sam chuckled. “You know, I was gonna say something about you being Captain Obvious but you’re not even looking my direction. That’s some mad skills, man.”

Bucky side eyed him. “If you’re looking for a conversation, I’m not the person you should be spending time with.”

“That’s okay,” Sam told him. “I’m not in the mood for a conversation either. Sometimes I like being outside just to think.”

Bucky scoffed. “I doubt that’s all you’re out here for.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. The man was perceptive. He had to give him that. “All right, you got me.”

“I don’t want to talk about today,” Bucky repeated, with no bite.

Sam watched him sit perfectly still, staring out over the city but not really seeing anything. “Which part? The part where you fell apart in a Hydra base and attacked Cap or the part where you attacked him last night? Cuz neither one’s good.”

Bucky curled up on himself, facing away from Sam. “Please don’t.”

Sam would not be so easily swayed. “That might work on Cap but not on me.”

The glare Sam got pierced him through. “I can make you stop,” Bucky threatened.

“But you won’t,” Sam pointed out. “Because you know you need to talk about things. To someone that’s not Cap.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it. At all.”

“If you don’t, it’s gonna build up till you have mental breakdown. Like you did today.” 

Bucky looked away. 

Sam understood. Bucky’s guilt had a different cause than his but guilt itself was universal. Especially when it came to best friends. Sam still shouldered the responsibility for what happened to Riley. It only made sense for Bucky to shoulder the guilt for what he had done under Hydra’s control and for all the pain he’d caused Steve.

But, like him, Bucky wasn’t going to talk willingly. Sam had to put skin in the game first, just as his VA counselor had with him. “You know, I know what you’re going through.” He held a hand up to stop Bucky from jumping in. “Not what you went through specifically—I’m not saying that—but the trauma and stress of being in a war and coming home not the same, that I get.”

Still Bucky wasn’t inclined to open up. 

“I lost my wingman over there. Riley. Messed me up real bad. I still have nightmares about it, trying and failing to save his dumb ass. What you’re going through—it’s normal. It sucks, yeah, but it’s normal.”

“How do you deal with it?” Bucky asked, so softly Sam barely heard him.

“Slowly, you know? It’s not something you fix overnight. You gotta accept that you’re gonna have good days and bad days. And you can’t do it alone, especially on the bad days.”

“Seems like all I have are bad days.”

“Give it time. You’ll get there. Voice of experience, remember?”

Bucky huffed. “Why are you even out here? I know I’ve tried to kill you a couple of times, at least.”

Sam just smiled. “I know that wasn’t you, man. Besides, Cap says you’re cool. So, you’re cool.”

“You’re a better person than I could be,” Bucky muttered.

Sam pointed a finger at him. “You know, I think that’s part of your problem.”

He laughed humorlessly. “What is?”

“You keep comparing yourself to anyone you think is better than you, especially Cap, and you keep coming up short,” Sam answered. “How long did you know Cap before he went all super-soldier? I’m betting a long time, right?”

Bucky nodded. “I think it was a decade. Or more. I can’t really remember.”

“You looked out for him, didn’t you?” 

Another nod.

“How much of a shock was it seeing him? You had to think he couldn’t need you anymore.”

“Something like that.”

Sam knew it wasn’t like that. It was exactly that. “And then you hear about everything he’s done since they pulled him from the ice-“

“I hate myself. Is that what you want to hear?” Bucky snapped.

“Nah, man. No one wants to hear it just like no one wants to say it.”

Bucky sighed and rested his head on his hands folded above his lap. “I hate that I couldn’t fight Hydra. I hate that I blame Steve for not being there, like he was before. I hate that I wasn’t there for him when he woke up. I hate that I keep hurting him. I’m supposed to protect him. I can’t do that, not like this.”

Sam walked closer to him and sat down. He laid a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You’re beating yourself up over things you can’t change. And you’re carrying around a helluva lot of guilt because you can’t. But those things don’t make you any less of a good person. Makes you no less worthy of being Steve’s friend.”

“You can’t know that.”

Sam laughed. “Every soldier compares himself to Cap. At least, everyone in my unit did. That’s never a good road to travel down.”

“How can I not?” Bucky asked. “He comes out of the ice and saves the world. I come out of the ice and kill how many hundreds of people?”

“Their blood’s not on your hands,” Sam told him gently. “Look at everyone here. The Avengers. Not a single one of them has come from a better place than you, not even Cap. They’ve done bad things, intentional or not. But now? They’re doing the world a whole lot of good. Maybe you should follow their example.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Who does?” Sam countered. “But when you get lost, you got a real good friend in your corner to help you out. That’s how I get by.”

Bucky smiled, honest to God smiled. “Thanks.” He held out a hand.

Sam shook it. “Not a problem, man. Somebody’s got keep all you crazy ass people sane.”

“Hope they pay you well,” Bucky teased.

“Nowhere near enough,” Sam replied, just as teasing.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment until Bucky’s stomach growled.

“Ok, that’s it,” Sam said, rising to his feet. He offered to help Bucky up.

Bucky hesitantly grabbed onto Sam’s hand with his metal one.

Sam hoisted him to his feet. “We’re getting you some real food.” As they walked inside, he asked, “Steve happen to mention I make a mean barbeque?”

It wasn’t much but Bucky chuckling felt like a step in the right direction.

Bucky turned to him. “Why does it piss you off when Steve says ‘On your left’?”

Sam doubled over, clutching his sides he was laughing so hard. “Oh, now that’s a story.” One that he quite happily told while he cooked dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So life's getting away from me a little and I haven't been able to write as often as I have been. Unfortunately, that trend's going to continue for a few more days. Just hang with me guys. Things should quiet down soon. :)


	14. Chapter 14

“Ok, Rogers, what’s on your mind?” Nat managed to get out through the landed punches and dodges.

Steve threw a few well-aimed punches, knocking her to the ground. “Why would I have anything on my mind?”

She caught one of his punches and twisted him around. “I’m holding my own. You never give me this much of an edge.”

“We’ve never sparred before,” he pointed out, swiping her legs out from under her. 

She somersaulted backwards to regroup. “Fine, you wouldn’t normally give me an edge,” she groused back. “Not that I’ve ever thought about going mano a mano with you.”

He blocked another punch and roundhouse kicked her in the gut, sending her flying. “Glad to hear it. I’d think you’d have more important things to worry about.”

Nat leapt to her feet. “I usually do. Today, I’ve decided to worry about you.” Taking a running leap toward him, she landed on Steve’s shoulders. They tumbled to the ground. She pinned him with one foot on his throat. “Three to two. Come on Rogers, don’t tell me you’re taking it easy on me because I’m a girl?”

Steve grabbed her foot and flipped her onto her back. “That’s just damn insulting.” He mimed stabbing her in the heart. ‘Three-three.”

She lay on the mat and laughed. “Well, something’s on your mind then. I hate to keep bringing it up-“

“Then stop doing it,” he interrupted as he helped her to her feet.

“Fine. You can talk to Stark.”

Steve glared at her. “I hate talking to him on a good day.”

She smiled sweetly. “You know I’m the much better option,” she argued as she knocked him off balance. “Spill. You know you want to.” She wrapped him in a chokehold. “Four-three. My match.”

Steve swore. In multiple languages.

She laughed and hopped to her feet. “Easy, soldier. That’s quite a mouth.”

He shot another glare at her but remained not forthcoming.

As she toweled off some of the sweat, she kept talking since Steve absolutely refused to join in. “Fine, how about you let me talk and when I get something wrong, you let me know?”

“You and your mouth will get you into trouble one of these days,” he informed her.

“Seems we have that in common then. You told me so yourself.” She threw him a towel. “You’re worried about Barnes. That’s the obvious part. More than a normal friend would be. Also obvious—to me. And Stark. Not sure about the rest.” Thinking for a second, she amended, “Well, and Sam’s probably got a good idea too. Maybe you can talk to him.”

“He’s helping Bucky at the moment.”

They headed out of the exercise room, towels draped around their shoulders. “Which means you’re not getting any help.”

“I don’t need any help,” he replied.

“Steve-“ the use of his first name got his attention “-you don’t sleep. You have nightmares. You have that thousand-yard stare anytime things quiet down. And now you’re shouldering all the guilt from what happened to your friend.” 

She was right. He knew it.

“You gotta trust me. I told you before. None of what happened is your fault.”

He sighed. “I do trust you, Nat. I’m just not sure I can let go of that guilt. It’s a part of me now.”

“Why don’t you talk to him?” She didn’t say Barnes’ name but Steve caught her meaning.

“I don’t know how to talk about things to you. What am I supposed to say to him? That I’m sorry for assuming he was dead? For letting him be tortured and brainwashed for seventy years?”

She nudged his shoulder. “You’ll figure something out. You’re good at doing that on the fly,” she teased.

They walked into the elevator. Steve pushed the button for his floor. “You’re really annoying. Has anyone ever told you that?”

She laughed long and hard. “All day, every day.” She hit the button for her floor, just below Steve’s. 

The elevator shot upward. Nat felt her stomach lurch. No matter how long she stayed in Stark’s tower, she couldn’t get used to the speed of his elevators. Before she got off on her floor, she turned to Steve. “You’re a good friend, Rogers, no matter what you may think. Barnes is lucky to have you.” She hugged him. “You know where I am if you need to talk.”

The elevator doors slid shut, leaving Steve alone in the elevator. Natasha’s words resonated with him during his quick journey up another floor. Had her words come from anyone else, he might have dismissed them without a thought but from her, they carried additional weight. He paid attention when she spoke.

He stepped out of the elevator to the delicious smell of barbeque. If Sam was working his magic, maybe the day could still be salvaged.

***

Sam looked up from his preparations when he heard the door to Steve’s suite open. He caught Bucky looking toward the door as well. The man’s mood shifted so fast, Sam thought a flip had been switched. Bucky actually smiled when he saw Steve. 

“You’re not gonna burn the place down are you?” Steve teased as he walked in. “I just finished getting settled in.”

Sam almost replied but Bucky beat him to it. “I’d have a better chance if Sam would let me near the grill.”

As it was, Sam only let Bucky help him mix the barbeque sauce. 

Steve couldn’t hide his grin. “At least he’s letting you help. Last time I tried, he threatened to cut my fingers off.”

“I think my exact words were ‘If you don’t back the fuck off, I’ll stab you with a fork.’ Little different,” Sam corrected. “If you’re going to tell him I threatened you, get it right.”

Steve laughed. “I stayed true to the spirit of it. I think that counts.”

“I gotta agree with Steve,” Bucky threw in. “You don’t gotta be precise.”

Sam looked from one to the other. He caught a glimpse, just a glimpse, of how those two must have been before. That he could see even that much was a good sign, he hoped. He didn’t have to tell them that though. “Fine, if you two are gonna team up, I’m keeping the ribs to myself.”

“Damn it!” Steve gave Bucky an apologetic look. “Sorry, I can’t give that up.”

Bucky shrugged. “Glad you said it first. I’ve been hearing too much about this barbeque to pass it up.”

Steve slapped him with the towel. “You’re a punk.”

Bucky ripped it out of his hands and slapped him back. “Jerk.”

They might have continued roughhousing but Sam needed Bucky’s assistance and Steve, well- “Okay, man, get your smelly ass out of the kitchen. Go!”

Bucky’s smile slipped as he watched Steve leave the room.

Sam handed him a tray and, grabbing the other, they walked back to the balcony. One of the few things Sam had insisted on having if he was going to spend a lot of time in Stark’s tower was a grill. He placed the slabs of meat on the grill. “What’s up?” he asked Bucky once he was comfortable with how the meat was cooking.

“Nothing,” Bucky hedged.

Sam pointed his tongs at Bucky. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Bucky sighed. “I don’t know which is worse. Being around him and pretending everything’s okay or watching him leave and being forced back into reality.”

“So stop pretending. Plus, I don’t think you’re the only one having that problem,” Sam informed him gently.

“What do you mean?”

He hummed but didn’t answer.

Bucky crossed his arms. “Sam, what are you talking about?”

Steve strode out onto the balcony before Sam could offer any more half answers. His hair was wet. Half stuck up at odd angles, half stuck to his head. “Am I allowed in the kitchen, master chef?”

Sam eyed him critically. “I think I’m still gonna say no. Seriously, man, I got this.”

Steve tilted his head slightly in confusion but he quickly hid it, opting instead for rolling his eyes. “Someone’s cranky,” he muttered before walking back inside.

Bucky watched him go. 

“You can go inside too, if you want,” Sam told him. “The meat’s gotta smoke for an hour. Not much left out here for you to do.”

Bucky hesitated.

“I think it’ll help if you two talk anyway,” Sam admitted. 

“I don’t know what we’d talk about.”

Sam smiled. “Well, you having problems remembering things right? Maybe about that. Cuz that’s something I can’t help you with.”

Bucky took a deep breath.

“You got this, man,” Sam called after him.

***

Bucky felt trapped. Sam really had left him with no choice but to talk to Steve. Not that Bucky didn’t want to talk to his friend. He did. That was the problem. Because every interaction he’d had with Steve since he, well since he broke free from Hydra’s control, hurt him. Hurt them both. Badly. Steve hid it well but Bucky knew him.

Steve was sitting hunched over the bar, his back to Bucky. His arm was moving in short, abrupt movements. Every so often, Bucky heard the eraser against paper. 

Bucky didn’t want to interrupt him. He turned to leave.

“You can sit down, Buck. You won’t bother me,” Steve said, stopping him before he left the room.

He pulled the adjacent bar stool back and sat down. “What are you drawing?”

Steve moved his hand to let Bucky take a look. 

Bucky leaned over Steve’s arm. The building looked familiar but he couldn’t place it. “I’m supposed to know it, aren’t I?” He struggled to beat the disappointment back.

His admission didn’t faze Steve. At least, it didn’t appear to. “Be glad you don’t remember it,” Steve told him. “That shanty could not keep any heat in whatsoever. Especially after Mom passed away.”

Bucky traced one of the pencil lines. “We fought because you kept trying to enlist.” He smiled at the memory. “I was so pissed at you.” He felt the rough wood of the door under his hand as he slammed it to confront Steve.

“Yes, you were. There were a couple of times I thought you were gonna hit me for it.”

“I probably should have. Nothing else would have convinced you.” He squirmed uncomfortably under the look Steve gave him.

Steve returned to drawing, pressing the pencil a little harder than necessary into the paper. 

Bucky sighed. Talking to Steve sometimes involved walking on eggshells. Was this what it was like for Steve to talk to him? “No need to get huffy. I do remember what you said in the bar. Never could argue with you logic there.”

“Never said thank you, either,” Steve pointed out, not hatefully.

“No, I never did.” He wasn’t sure he could do it now. How could he be thankful for a life that was mostly not his? “I didn’t deserve it. And looking at what happened after, it wasn’t your best move. You should have let me die there, Steve.” He wasn’t sure if he meant the Hydra base in Europe or the helicarrier. He didn’t care. Either worked.

“Bucky, I’m only going to say this once so listen up.”

Bucky forced himself to meet Steve’s gaze. He expected to see anger, judgment. He expected Steve to reach a point where he couldn’t deal with things anymore, when all of Bucky’s problems and insecurities got to be too much.

That was about as far from what he saw as he could get.

“You’re my friend. You’re my best friend. You saved my life God knows how many times when we were kids. Now, I don’t know what all happened to you. I don’t know what all Hydra made you do. It doesn’t matter. Nothing could convince I made a bad call pulling you off that slab. I didn’t make a bad call then and I’m not making one now. You hearin’ me, Buck? You didn’t deserve to die there.”

“I deserved what Hydra did to me then?” Bucky snapped, hurt washing over him like ice cold water. The words tasted ashy in his mouth.

He barely heard the next words, so softly did Steve say them. “That’s not what I meant. I would trade places with you if I could. No question.”

Bucky laughed humorlessly. “But you can’t. So I guess I gotta get by on my own, don’t I?”

“Yeah, but the thing is…you don’t have to.”

Bucky froze, the words unlocking doors in his mind. The afternoon after the funeral when he said those same words to Steve, the days leading up to the funeral when Steve worked himself to the ground because he couldn’t cope with his mother’s death. 

God, they were broken, weren’t they?

Steve’s mouth curled up on one side. The bastard had chosen his words with the intent of triggering memories. 

Bucky couldn’t bring himself to be mad. 

Steve continued, “I know I can’t change what happened. So you gotta let me do the next best thing.”

“What’s that?”

Steve considered him for a moment. “I saved you from Hydra once. Let me do it again.”

Bucky couldn’t process Steve’s words properly. “You’re the dumbest kid I’ve ever met,” he teased, trying not to tear up.

Steve threw an arm over his shoulders. “Can’t be. You’re still here.” 

Sitting in the kitchen, waiting for Sam to come get him to help with the barbeque, with Steve beside him, Bucky finally felt a little at peace.

“Sam explained what ‘on your left’ means,” he added, to lighten the mood.

Steve groaned and buried his head in his hands.


	15. Chapter 15

It was well into the night when Sam brought the finished barbeque into the kitchen. Steve helped pull the aluminum foil back. His mouth watered as the smell of barbeque hit his nose. He felt Bucky’s hand on his shoulder.

“Okay, I’ll admit, that smells amazing,” Bucky told Sam, his voice really close to Steve’s ear.

Steve tried really hard not to turn to look at Bucky. He tried to focus on something else, anything else, to ignore the warmth Bucky gave off next to him.

“I wouldn’t steer you wrong on food,” Steve told him, mentally scolding himself for almost losing control and acknowledging things he wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

Sam cut the ribs apart, totally unaware of Steve’s turmoil, with a knife sharp enough to catch Bucky’s eye. 

Steve grabbed three plates from the cabinet and laid them on the bar.

“How do we eat these?” Bucky motioned to the ribs.

Steve loaded his plate up. “With your hands. “

“It’s gonna be messy,” Sam told him, handing him a handful of paper towels.

Watching Bucky try to eat ribs without getting his metal hand covered in barbeque sauce was hilarious. Every time he messed up, Steve clutched his sides laughing, sliding so easily into the banter that defined them.

Bucky glared at him each time he laughed. “Do you know how long it’ll take to clean this out?” he complained, holding up his prosthetic, trying to get Steve to stop, to no avail. That is, until he figured out that throwing ribs slathered in sauce at Steve shut him up.

Steve gave as good as he got. An unfortunate portion of the ribs ended up on the counter and the floor.

Sam backed into the living room for the duration of the food fight, determined not to be dragged into it. “Alright guys, that’s enough. Someone’s gonna have to clean this up and it won’t be me.”

It took the three of them a couple of hours to clean up all the mess but Sam didn’t complain too much about being roped into helping. Sam told them good night and headed to his own rooms on Hawkeye’s floor. They figured it’d be amusing to put the two birds together. Sam had just rolled his eyes and gone with it. 

Bucky kept drying dishes and handing them to Steve to put away after Sam left. For a while they didn’t say anything. The only sound breaking the silence was the clanking of glass dishes.

“So, what’d you think?” Steve asked him once they’d finished.

“About the barbeque? It was great. I can’t believe we never tried that before.”

Steve chuckled. “Well, it would have been a lot more than we could have afforded so…”

“It is a pretty big improvement,” Bucky agreed. “They’ve made a lot of improvements, really,” he added quietly. “From back then.”

“We took a seventy year break from the world,” Steve reminded him. “Some things had to change.”

“Guess they did.”

Steve got Bucky set up in the room next to his, had his duffel bag brought up—the only belongings Bucky had. Bucky eyed the bed warily and Steve knew he wasn’t going to be the only one sleeping on the floor.

“Hey, Buck?” Steve said before heading to his room.

Bucky causally threw a couple of pillows on the floor and pulled the quilt off the bed. “Hmm?”

“Come get me if you need anything.”

Bucky looked over his shoulder, his hair half hiding his face. “Back at you.”

***

Steve woke in a cold sweat, the sheet tangled around him. His nightmares were slowly becoming less frequent but every now and then, he had a bad one. This was one of those. He rubbed his eyes, hoping the images of Bucky bloody in the snow would disappear. The screams still echoed in his mind. His or Bucky’s, he couldn’t be sure which.

This dream was different though. The train, that was always there. It haunted him the way nothing else could. But this time, he also saw inside Hydra facilities and his mind filled in the blanks regarding the tortures Bucky suffered. The way Bucky screamed in the bunker settled into Steve’s bones and added a whole other layer of guilt when Steve thought he couldn’t carry any more.

In the quiet of his room, where no one could see or hear him, he curled around his pillow and cried. 

Erskine had told him to be a good man. He’d failed. He failed Peggy and Howard and Colonel Philips. And he failed Bucky. 

Bucky was the worst. No matter how many times Natasha told him what happened wasn’t his fault or how badly he tried to believe her, he just couldn’t. He couldn’t get past his inability to save Bucky from falling. If he had reached just a little farther… Then he assumed he was dead, leaving him in Hydra’s hands. For seventy years.

Steve either wanted to punch a lot of people or lock himself away for letting Bucky suffer so long. To hear Bucky say that he should have died, that saving him hadn’t been a blessing, sucker punched him. How could he come back and say that he’d felt the same when they woke him from the ice? How was he supposed to tell Bucky that he’d tried to die when he went after Schmidt, when he took on the helicarriers, because he’d been so alone, gotten so low, that he didn’t see another way out? He understood where Bruce had been coming from.

The only thing that kept him going was the thought of how disappointed Bucky would be if he completely gave up. Now, with Bucky struggling to regain his memories and grappling with his own crippling guilt, Steve had a damn good reason to keep breathing.

It was tenuous but at least he had one.

Even without knowing it, Bucky was still saving his life. Over and over again.

That Bucky could still do that after everything he’d been through brought on a fresh wave of tears.

He cried his pain out until he had neither the energy nor tears to keep crying. His eyes were swollen almost shut so he threw the sheet back and trudged into the bathroom to wash his face with cold water.

Days like this, were he in DC, he’d drive to the nursing home and sit with Peggy for hours. Even in her current state, he could talk to her and she wouldn’t judge him. He loved that about her. Sure, she’d give it to him straight and it would hurt. Sometimes, he needed that.

He needed that today, which meant he had a long drive ahead of him. Several hours alone on the road in his current state did not excite him. Still, he felt like he had to go.

As he dressed, he saw the sunrise through the window. One thing he had to give Stark—he sure knew how to pick a view. He grabbed his phone and keys and headed to the front door.

And ran straight into Bucky.

“Steve?” Bucky asked, still half asleep, voice scratchy, his hair sticking out at odd angles. “Whatareyoudoing?” he mumbled.

Steve pointedly ignored how endearing the sight was. “Nothing, Buck. Just going out for some fresh air.”

Bucky rubbed his eyes, trying to wake himself up. “Wish you wouldn’t lie to me,” he groused, stifling a yawn. “You’d think by now you’d know it doesn’t work.”

The memories of all the times Steve had tried to lie to Bucky, and the few times he’d actually succeeded, hung in the air between them. Steve could examine each one—he knew them all by heart. He wasn’t sure how many Bucky could call on but it had to be a few. Steve had to believe some of Bucky’s memories were coming back.

“Go back to sleep,” he told Bucky gently. “I just got something I gotta do.”

“Something that involves a car?” Bucky nodded down at the keys in Steve’ hand. “Come on, Steve. Talk to me?”

Steve caved slightly. “I’m going to see Peggy.”

“You’re gonna drive all the way to DC? Steve, you told me yourself that never goes well.” He glanced at the display on the microwave. “And it’s not even six yet. What the fuck?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Bucky saw right through that bullshit. He always could. “If by couldn’t sleep, you mean you were tossing and turning for an hour, sure. Major understatement.” He shrugged when Steve’s eyes opened wide. He realized what he was admitting. “I guess I couldn’t sleep either,” he added sheepishly.

The words fell from his lips so succinctly but they both knew why neither of them got much sleep.

When Steve didn’t say anything, Bucky backed up a step, distancing himself. “Go on, then. Do what you gotta do.” 

Steve caught the brief glimpse of pain that passed over Bucky’s face and made an executive decision. Bucky had taken his silence the wrong way. He needed to fix that. “It’s an awfully long drive. I wouldn’t mind the company.”

There was no fanfare or brilliant rainbows that erupted at the offer but Bucky’s eyes brightened and there was less of a drudge to his walk when he walked into his room to get dressed.

While he waited, Steve called up J.A.R.V.I.S. on the control panel in the living room. 

“What can do I for you, Captain?” the calm, British voice asked.

“Will you deliver a message to everyone when they wake up that me and Buck went to visit an old friend? So they don’t think we got kidnapped or anything?”

“Of course, sir. Shall I tell them who it is?”

Steve gripped the edges of the console and sighed. “Tell them it’s Peggy.”

“When can they expect you back?”

“Probably tomorrow. You have my number, and Bucky’s, if you need to reach us.”

“I will relay your message.”

“Thanks, J.A.R.V.I.S.” Steve closed the console.

Bucky came back, dressed in jeans and a long sleeve shirt and jacket, a glove covering his metal hand. Steve made a mental note of how much effort Bucky put into appearing somewhat normal, how much he hid the physical aspects of what Hydra did to him.

“You ready?” he asked, putting aside all his worries for a moment.

“Only if you are,” Bucky replied.

Together, they headed to the elevator and rode it down to the garage.

***

The drive should have taken a lot longer, Steve mused. It really should have. Not that it wasn’t a pleasant drive. It was. Neither he nor Bucky said much—it was too early for most of the drive to really talk. But still, it was comfortable in its silence.

Steve stared at the building through his windshield. It was so innocuous, so unassuming, on the outside. Nothing could ever really prepare Steve for coming here and dealing straight up with the fact that he missed seventy years. Nothing could prepare him to see Peggy lying in a bed, her face lined with wrinkles from care, and from laughing. From a life he couldn’t have been a part of.

Still, he was here. And Bucky was here.

He got out of the truck, Bucky repeating his every move. A perfect echo. They walked into the main atrium side by side. The receptionist, a woman named Lillian if Steve remembered correctly, smiled at them. “You here to see Ms. Carter, Captain?”

“I am,” he affirmed.

She glanced at Bucky. “Is he with you?”

“He is.” His tone held a note of warning.

“That’s good. The company will do her good.” Her smile turned sad. “She keeps talking about you, tells us stories from the war, from running S.H.I.E.L.D. Sometimes we just sit with her to listen. I assume you remember where her room is?”

“I do, thanks.”

Bucky grabbed his arm before they walked in. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Steve gripped the hand on his arm tightly. He smiled thinly. “Yeah, I do. For a while, she was the only thing I had left from before.”

Bucky sucked in a breath.

Steve feared for a moment he’d revealed too much. One thing he never wanted Bucky to know was how low he’d been in the years after Bucky had supposedly died. Hs friend had enough on his shoulders. 

Bucky hung back when Steve pushed the door open. “I think I’m gonna stay out here. You go ahead.” 

Steve still hesitated.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” Bucky offered with a small smile.

Steve squared his shoulders and walked inside.


	16. Chapter 16

The door opened silently. Everything about the building was new so the hinges didn’t creak and the door hadn’t settled against the floor. They would in time.

Always in time. Everything faded in time. Except him. And Bucky. He wasn’t sure about some of the Avengers either. It was their curse.

Peggy was lying in the bed, sheets covering her halfway, her quilt folded up by the foot of her bed. She wasn’t looking toward the door. Something outside, through the window, drew her gaze.

Steve stood in the tiny hallway and watched her for a minute. It was strange still to see someone he had known to be so full of life and energy to be sitting so still.

“Peggy?” he ventured.

She turned toward him. Every movement she made seemed slowed down, like she was moving through water. Her eyes brightened with recognition. “Steve? They didn’t tell me you were coming today.”

He smiled. “It was a spur of the moment decision.”

“You don’t make spur of the moment decisions,” she told him. “There’s always a reason floating around in your head.” She regarded him thoughtfully. “What it is?”

Steve dragged a chair from its spot by the window to the side of her bed. “Bucky’s not dead.” Better to cut straight to the chase.

“What?” she gasped, sitting up slightly. “How?”

“Whatever Hydra did to him before I rescued him helped him survive.” 

Peggy reached out and grabbed his hand. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I can’t imagine what seeing him again must have been like.”

He gripped her hand tightly. “You probably do more than most.”

“Well.” She smiled and laughed. “What’s wrong, then? Why do you look so down? I’d have thought you’d be on top of the world to have him back.”

“I am,” he assured her. “It’s just, every time I look at him, I see how badly I failed him.”

“You didn’t fail him. Do you hear me?” she demanded, more her old self than he had seen her since he woke up. “You did all you could at the time. You can’t-“ she coughed “-beat yourself up over thing you had no control over.”

“Natasha said something similar,” he told her.

She nodded. “You should listen,” she informed him, covering his hand with hers. “You can’t change what happened, Steve. It wouldn’t be right if you could. All you can do is start over from this moment.”

“I’m not sure I know how to do that,” Steve admitted.

She laid it out for him, the way only she could. “You’re afraid you failed him. You couldn’t be there for him when he needed you most. So fix it. Be there for him now.” 

The problem was he was already doing that.

She saw right through him. “Stop trying to over analyze everything,” she scolded, a hint of fondness in her voice. “He’s damn lucky to have you. And you, him. You’ll need someone when I’m gone.”

He squeezed her hand.

“I know my mind isn’t what it once was. I’ll be gone long before I die.”

Steve’s chest constricted and he struggled to breathe. “You don’t know that.”

She smiled, so at peace that Steve was almost jealous. “I do. It’s been worse since the last time you came. Today’s just a good day.”

“I was only here a few weeks ago,” he reminded her.

Her eyes clouded in confusion. Resigned, she leaned back into the bed. “I don’t remember.”

“It’s okay. I’ll remember for you.”

She patted his hand. She didn’t have to tell him it didn’t matter. It hung above them, a dark cloud casting a long, dark shadow. “Tell me about Bucky,” she said.

He did, starting from the fight on the bridge. The more he talked, the better he felt. Talking to someone who really understood where he was coming from was the best medicine. Sure, Natasha helped and Sam helped but they weren’t the same.

Peggy was smiling by the end.

Steve wasn’t sure what he had said that was worth smiling at. 

“Have you told him yet?” she asked.

He played dumb. “Have I told him what?”

She just tilted her head. “You should. I know you think you’re not worth it, that you’ve hurt him, but you can’t keep ignoring him, not when he really needs you.”

Maybe, just maybe, her words sunk in a little deeper than Nat’s, a little deeper than Sam’s. Steve still had questions. “Why are you okay with it? I thought…“ He trailed off

She replied, “I always knew, I think. I loved you, Steve. I still love you. But I knew you belonged to someone else.”

Steve kissed her gently on the forehead. “You’re my best girl.”

She hummed in agreement. “Don’t you forget it.” 

“Steve,” Bucky called out hesitantly, “the-uh- the girl at the front desk asked if you needed anything.” He peeked his head in and held the door open, ever so gently, with his metal hand. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

Peggy looked from Steve to Bucky. “Go get some coffee. You’re asleep on your feet. I want to talk to Bucky for a minute.”

Steve rose from his chair. He really didn’t want to leave her. The last time he had, even for a second, she’d forgotten, her memories slipping away. But he couldn’t tell her no. He had come to her for help, after all.

“She wants to see you,” he told Bucky on his way out.

Bucky twisted around. “N-no, I can’t-“

“Sergeant Barnes, I don’t bite,” she teased. 

Steve flashed him an encouraging smile.

Bucky took Steve’s seat by her bed, self-consciously hiding his arm inside his jacket sleeve. It shocked him to see the effects of the time he missed lying in the bed in front of him.

He must not have hidden it well.

“I know, it’s a fair cry from that slinky, red dress,” she commented wryly. “Not all of us were lucky enough to skip growing old.”

“I’ll trade you.” The prospect of growing old held a lot of appeal. Not that he could anymore with whatever changes Hydra had made. Hydra had taken so much from him.

Her eyes were full of understanding. “I’m sure. I apologize if I seemed inconsiderate.” She glanced at where he was tucking his arm underneath his jacket. “You don’t need to hide that from me.”

Bucky faltered. No one had said that to him, not even Steve. He laid his hand on the bed beside her. 

She slid the glove off, examining the metal.

A landslide of memories hit him, from the moment he woke with the arm attached to his shoulder and he tried to fight his way out, to all the fights and injuries and repairs it had taken. 

“Can you feel anything?” she asked.

“Not really,” he replied, opening up easily. “I can feel the pressure but I can’t feel your hand.”

“You hate it,” she observed.

He curled the hand into a fist. 

“No matter what you think, this does not make you a monster,” she wrapped both her hands around his, still clenched into a fist. 

“You have no idea what they made me do. With this.” He shook his arm.

“No,” she admitted, “but I can guess. I can understand it reminds you of things you’d rather not remember but you’ve done good as well.”

“There’s nothing good I’ve done with this,” he muttered. 

“You pulled Steve from the Potomac when you barely remembered what he meant to you.” 

His eyes snapped to hers. No one had seen him. He’d made sure of that. How did she know?

“Did you think he wouldn’t figure it out? Who else could have done what you did?” She pointed her finger at his chest. “When you see your arm, you should think of that instead.”

“That’s not enough.” Saving Steve once was nothing compared the blood on his hands. Keeping the guilt compartmentalized allowed him to function but went he thought about what he did, when the memories broke into his sleep, he wanted to run away from everything, especially from Steve.

“That’s more than enough,” she retorted. Upon further consideration, she corrected, “That’s not it, though. You’re afraid it’s not enough for Steve.”

“It’s not,” he ground out.

She exhaled, her breath rattling through her fragile frame. “That’s what they told you, over and over. They said you weren’t good enough for him, that everything you did was wrong, that you were the reason he didn’t come back. You lived that reality so long you can’t see past it.” She sat up as best she could. “Do you hear them telling you that? Even now?”

“Every day,” he whispered. “I want them to stop but they don’t.”

“You listen to me, James Barnes, and you listen closely. I may be old and in a minute I may not remember this conversation, or your name, but they are wrong,” she said with conviction. “You may think what they did to you makes you a monster but you feel guilt over the lives Hydra made you take. That tells me you’re human, plain and simple. Not a monster. And if you think you’re not good enough, Steve would tear the world apart to save you. He wouldn’t do that if you didn’t deserve it.”

“You know that?” he asked, self-loathing dripping off every word. “What do you know?”

Peggy could not be shaken. “I know how hard it was for him after he lost you, how desperate he was to go after Schmidt.”

Steve only having eyes for Peggy that night in the Whip and Fiddle contradicted her. Bucky held onto the despair from that night. It fueled his bitterness. “You’re wrong.”

“Were you there?” she asked. “Did you see him? He had no intention of coming back from confronting Schmidt, James. After losing you, he would have welcomed death. It was a damn miracle he survived crashing into the ice.” 

He couldn’t find anything to say.

She collapsed into a coughing fit. 

He pressed the emergency button when she didn’t stop. Two nurses rushed past him, Steve right on their heels.

“What happened?” Steve asked, watching the scene.

“I don’t know. We were talking then she started coughing.”

The change was instantaneous. Peggy struggled against the nurses helping her, screaming, “Don’t touch me! Get off me!” She saw Steve and Bucky by the door. “Who are they?” she cried out. “I don’t know them!”

The older of the nurses told them, “We have to calm her down. You should leave.”

Steve fled the room.

***

Bucky found Steve sitting in the passenger seat of the truck. He got in the driver’s seat, no questions asked.

“Steve-?”

Steve tossed him the keys. “Just drive.”

Bucky started the car and backed out of the nursing home parking lot. They couldn’t go back to New York, not with Steve like this. Bucky considered driving to his small apartment but immediately abandoned that idea. He vaguely remembered Steve’s apartment where he shot of the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. He wasn’t thrilled to go back there but Steve needed to be somewhere he felt comfortable in.

He pressed the accelerator as far into the floor as he could, sending them speeding across the city.


	17. Chapter 17

Bucky parked the truck a few blocks down from Steve’s building. 

Steve got out of the car and stormed toward his apartment. 

Bucky followed him. He didn’t know what else to do. Steve wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk.

Steve slammed the door to the apartment in Bucky’s face, so reminiscent of the times he’d done that before, slamming the old shanty door in his face. That hadn’t stopped him then either.

Bucky didn’t hear the lock click so he followed Steve inside. He watched helplessly as Steve laid waste to the furniture. It wasn’t a reaction he was unfamiliar with. He remembered the fight with Steve in the Whip and Fiddle and how Steve’s words slammed into him, crushing him. It was the first time in his life that he had had any hope of Steve maybe returning the feelings he had for him, which was ironic considering where Steve’s attention had been most of the night. But they parted with just a hug and Bucky had gone to pieces. Being drunk and requiring medical attention, which he never got, his destructive rampage in his tent had ended quickly. He cleaned up the mess and no one was the wiser.

But Steve was a super soldier and he was grieving. 

There would be a much bigger mess.

Bucky couldn’t have been as shaken as Steve was at seeing Peggy succumb to her disease but it was far more similar to his own situation than was comfortable.

A lamp crashed to the ground, glass shattering across the floor. Bucky startled at the noise and followed one of the larger pieces of glass as it danced. He couldn’t handle looking at Steve in the state he was in.

But when Steve started pounding the wall, each punch leaving a gaping hole in the sheetrock, he had to step in.

He caught Steve’s hand as it pulled back for another punch, for once using the strength of his metal arm to break the movement.

Steve tried to yank his hand free but Bucky tightened his grip and held on. 

“Steve! Stop!” he shouted, helpless and desperate. “Breaking stuff ain’t gonna get her back!”

“I don’t care!” Steve tried to twist out of Bucky’s grasp. “Damn it, let go of me!” 

Hearing Steve shout back shocked Bucky enough to let go but he shoved Steve back instinctually. They stood a couple of feet apart, bent over and panting.

“You want to punch something?” Bucky spat out in the midst of gulping down breaths, his anger and frustration finally spilling over. Enough was enough. “Use me. You seem keen enough to break everything else.”

His words drew Steve out of his haze. “I won’t fight you, Buck.”

Bucky had connected several things while he drove, from what Peggy said and how Steve had been acting since he’d come back. That just made him angrier, Peggy’s words haunting him, taunting him, mixing with Pierce’s cold voice, morphing into some horrible monster in the pit of his stomach. “The bridge doesn’t count, huh? Or the helicarrier? I tried to kill you! Why the hell do you keep overlooking that?” 

Pierce’s voice rang out dimly, “Look at what you’ve done. You broke him. That is your legacy, breaking your best friend. The one person you swore to protect.”

Bucky gasped and struggled to straighten up. No, he refused to believe that.

The right hook came out of nowhere, Steve moving too fast for Bucky to react. He stumbled backward, gingerly touching his cheek. His fingers came back bloody. He’d have a shiner in the morning.

At least the pain shut the voice up, allowing Bucky to ignore the horrible things it whispered to him.

“I’m not overlooking anything, Buck, so stop saying I am.”

Bucky swore in Russian. “You’re a goddamn martyr, you know that?” 

Steve narrowed his eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked, the tone of his voice warning Bucky not to press any farther. He was at his breaking point.

When it came to Steve, Bucky never listened to any warnings. “The fuck do you think it means?” He ran his hand through his hair. “You’re supposed to get angry, pissed, something. But you-you never say anything!” He exhaled loudly. “I’m really sick of being lied to, you know. I expected it from Hydra. Not from you.”

Steve slumped, not bothering to hide how deep those words cut him. “I haven’t lied to you,” he protested.

“Yes, he did,” the voice murmured. “And he’ll never stop.”

Bucky pointed an accusing finger at him. “You omitted. You bottle everything up and expect the rest of the world to assume you’re okay when you’re not. Amounts to the same thing.”

“What have I ‘omitted’?” he asked, thoroughly confused. 

Bucky noted he said nothing about bottling his problems up. He’d struck a nerve. He shook his head and laughed. It sounded harsh even to him. “Quite a lot.” He looked Steve in the eye. “You shouldn’t have let me talk to Peggy if you really wanted to keep things from me.”

Steve apparently still had no idea what he was talking about. 

Bucky swore again, clenching his fists by his side. He wanted to shake some sense into the man in front of him but that would get him nowhere.

“What did she tell you that pissed you off so damn bad?” Steve snapped.

“How you went after Schmidt and almost got yourself killed,” Bucky told him. He was still shaken from Peggy telling him that.

“But I didn’t,” Steve pointed out. “I still don’t understand your problem with it. That was the mission, Bucky. Take out Hydra.”

“Tell him. Get angry. Push him away,” Pierce hissed.

Bucky was in Steve’s face before either knew what was happening. “But you went in wanting to die,” he gritted out. “You tried to die. Why?!”

“Because you were dead, okay?!” Steve shouted, shoving Bucky back. “And it was my fault! I got you killed! How was I supposed to live with that?”

Tears spilled down Steve’s cheeks.

“Did Peggy manage to mention I couldn’t even get drunk after? I tried, Buck. God, I tried. Because having to explain to Dugan and the rest what happened almost fucking killed me! You got no idea what that’s like.”

Oh.

The voice said nothing to that. Bucky’s personal demons though had a field day.

“You didn’t plan on surviving the helicarrier either, did you?” Bucky asked softly.

The look in Steve’s eyes told him his answer.

“What would you have done if I hadn’t been there today? If you’d been alone?” He didn’t have to ask the questions; he knew the answer. And it terrified him. 

Pierce’s voice was right. He’d broken the one thing he was supposed to protect.

“God, Steve,” he whispered, closing the distance between them. “Why didn’t you say something?”

The voice supplied its own answer. “He doesn’t trust you. He lied to you because he doesn’t love you.”

Steve shrugged. “What could I have said? You were already dealing with so much, I didn’t wanna make it worse.”

Bucky chuckled wryly. Stupid, fucking martyr. Some things never change. “If this isn’t your definition of worse, I’d hate to see what is.”

Steve sighed.

Somehow, Bucky had to get through to him, explain things, make things better. For both of them. “You haven’t made things worse, Steve. You haven’t made me worse. You couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Steve asked, finally sitting on the leather sofa.

Bucky joined him, sitting close enough to touch shoulders, hips, knees, everything. He slung an arm over Steve’s shoulders and gave him an awkward side hug. “You just couldn’t. You gotta trust me, bud.”

Steve didn’t move farther away, or closer. He bent over, resting his head in his hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, Buck. I thought I had it handled. Now, you’ve just got something else to worry about.”

“This,” he motioned over Steve, “isn’t handling it.” He squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “If there’s one thing I’ve picked up from Sam, you gotta talk about things. Anyway, I have always worried about you, kid. Same song, different day. What happened to me, the things I-I did, I had no choice in. And that’s something I gotta carry with me. I’ve got a choice with you.”

Steve pushed off of the sofa, leaving Bucky floundering, and paced across the room. “So where does that leave me?” 

Bucky crossed his right arm over his chest His brow furrowed. Did Steve take everything he said the wrong way on purpose? He absentmindedly rubbed the metal plates of his other arm. He bit back the momentary disgust, recalling what Peggy said. 

“He’ll leave you, just like he left you before, left you to die. All you do is hurt him. You don’t deserve him.”

Bucky gripped the sofa tightly, the metal digging into the leather. A part of him believed what the voice told him. He hated it.

“How’d you mean?” he managed to get out.

“You just said you have a choice with me. How am I supposed to take that?”

Steve, Peggy, Pierce’s voice, Bucky was fucking done. Done with the lies people told him, done with the lies he told himself. He got to his feet. “If you’re taking it any way you’re not supposed to, you’re a fucking idiot.”

Steve threw his hands up. “Fine, I’m an idiot. Y-you’re not making sense, Buck. Explain it to me because I’m really not the mood for games.”

Bucky was back in Steve’s personal space. “I’m not playing,” he growled.

Steve snapped back, all challenge, “Then what are you doing?”

All he managed to get out was “This,” before threading his metal fingers through Steve’s hair and kissing him roughly.

***

Steve froze as soon as their lips touched. His mind blanked until all he could think was Bucky was kissing him.

Of all the places he thought the conversation—well, fight—was going, this wasn’t that. Of all the times he hadn’t imagined them kissing, this was not the way it played out.

He wished he hadn’t feared this for so long.

Bucky pulled away, breaking all contact. Anger and frustration bled from his posture, leaving behind uncertainty and regret. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he whispered before bolting to the door.

Steve could still feel Bucky’s lips on his as he dashed after him. “Bucky, wait!” He grabbed Bucky’s jacket and dragged him back from the door. “Where are you going?”

Bucky cast a longing glance at the door and stalked back into the living room, pointedly not looking at Steve.

“Bucky!”

Bucky held out a hand to stop Steve getting too close. “Just don’t. I don’t know why I just did that,” he muttered. 

Steve walked up behind him. “That’s a little hypocritical considering the fight we were just having.” 

Bucky made a noise in protest. “That’s not fair.”

Steve spun Bucky around to face him and tilted his friend’s face up, cradling it in his hand. “You know what’s not fair?”

Bucky shook his head.

“You kissing me then running away.” Steve traced the cut he’d left on Bucky’s face with his other hand. “I hit you pretty hard, didn’t I?”

“I’ve been hit worse.” Bucky finally looked at Steve. “I-I’m sorry for before.”

Steve let his hands drop to Bucky’s shoulder. “What for?”

Bucky’s mouth fell open slightly. “What-?”

“I said-“ Steve kissed him “-what for?” He touched his forehead to Bucky’s. “You honestly think I’d do half of the things I’ve done for you for just anyone?” 

At this distance, Bucky’s eyes were blurs but Steve saw the tears welling up in them and spilling over.

“And you called me stupid,” Steve teased, trying his hardest not to cry as well.

Bucky laughed wetly, the purest, sweetest smile splitting his face. It’d been far too long since Bucky had smiled like that. “You’re a punk.”

Steve hugged him tightly. “Jerk.” He buried his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck. 

They stood in the middle of the living room, broken furniture everywhere. The emotional rollercoaster left them both too weary to move. 

“You remember the time I got into a fight with those kids in the playground that were beating you up?” Bucky mumbled into Steve’s shoulder.

“How could I forget? That was the day we met.” Steve smiled at the memory. “They kicked your ass pretty good if I remember.”

Steve felt Bucky’s laugh more than he heard it. “Got ‘em off your back, though. I’d call that a win.”

“That had to be one of the dumbest things you’ve ever done,” Steve commented.

“No…,” Bucky replied, drawing the sound out. “Well, it’s not the dumbest thing I’ve ever done anyway.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask what that would be,” Steve remarked. There was a decent sized list to choose from.

Bucky gripped Steve’s arms and gave him a long look. His façade had slipped off finally and Steve saw past the false bravado to the half-buried anguish and fear, softening slightly around the edges. Remnants of the Winter Soldier. Steve wanted to erase all of them. “I think you already know,” Bucky told him.

He did. He’d tap danced around it for years, since he rescued Bucky in ’43. It seemed strange that losing one of the last pieces of his life before gave him the strength, the peace, to fully regain something from that part of his life he thought he’d lost forever. “Yeah, I kinda think I do.”

The fell asleep on the couch, pressed against each other, limbs entangled. Nightmares couldn’t plague them.

***

Bucky woke to a gun pointed at his head and a cold voice behind him saying, “About damn time we found you.”

He screamed.

The world went black.


	18. Chapter 18

“Sir, the Captain and Sergeant Barnes were supposed to have returned by yesterday,” J.A.R.V.I.S. informed Tony, breaking his concentration.

Tony muttered under his breath. Could either of them really have been stupid to go off on their own?

Granted, in small part, Tony was grateful Barnes was out of his Tower. He still hadn’t found a way to look past the psychopathic killer side of the amnesiac super soldier. Sure, he pitied the man. Hydra must have seriously fucked him up. But for Tony, nothing excused his parents’ murder.

And now, he’d gotten Steve captured as well.

More than three strikes in Tony’s book. Tony didn’t even like the Captain that much. Respected him? Sure. Didn’t like him.

“Sir, shall I inform the others?”

Goddamn AI.

“Yeah, get everyone. I’ll be along in a minute.”

It was one hit after another. Barnes had way more heat on him from Hydra than Tony could have imagined. They attacked seemingly at random places but always toward a singular goal: to get Barnes back. Or whatever secrets were locked in his genetic code.

But they’d done that already.

Nathaniel Callahan, the sneaky son of a bitch, had let Hydra’s forces inside. He knew the access codes to bypass the lockdown—everyone who had stayed in the tower after the evacuation did—and had rigged the lab to explode. From the one working camera left in the lab, they had everything on tape. Where he’d got the explosives from, that remained a mystery.

Tony had expected treachery from Hydra but never from the likes of Nathaniel. Most Hydra agents screamed Hydra in their posture, their actions. He’d been unassuming, nerdy. The opposite of anything Hydra.

That’s how he’d fooled them.

Even his own sister.

Who wasn’t taking the news well. She oscillated between rage and grief and confusion. It came off like a bad round with depression. Barely eating, barely sleeping, sitting around in a stupor.

Tony couldn’t blame her. 

They’d been pretty hard on her the first couple of days after the attack. It was perfectly sound reasoning to assume if there was one bad apple in the family… But she was clean, cleaner than clean.

If he got the chance, he’d slug Nathaniel once just for the suffering Rory went through. He’d slug the bastard for a few other things too, the first of which being the theft of all Rory’s research into Barnes’s genetic code and the journal documenting every single experiment Hydra performed on him.

Hydra had everything.

Which left the Avengers at an extreme disadvantage. 

And now Hydra most likely had the Captain and Barnes. Their ultimate goal. 

From Tony’s position, they were well and truly fucked.

He locked down his workbench. The designs for modifications to his suit, Sam’s wings, and a brand spanking new suit for Rory all vanished. There’d be precious little time to work on them later.

The conference room was a solid block of noise, tendrils of arguments and panicked planning reaching out into the hallway. Tony took them in before entering.

“What have we got?” he demanded as he walked in.

“Damn little,” Agent Hill—he’d stopped trying to call her Maria because, like Coulson, her first name was “Agent”—informed him. “We have no leads on where Hydra might have taken them.”

“Or what they could be doing to them,” Rory added quietly.

“Perhaps we might be of assistance,” a new voice said.

The room fell silent as Thor, the Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three walked into the room.

“About time you guys showed up,” Tony groused.

Thor didn’t rise to the bait. He never did. Absolutely no sense of humor, that one.

“There is one in Asgard who sees all living beings,” Thor explained. “He searched for Steve and his friend at my request once I heard from Jane. We believe them to be here.” He manipulated the map to show Europe. More specifically, Ukraine. 

Kiev.

“We’ll never get there fast enough,” Sam muttered. “They’ll have them moved once they catch wind of us.”

“Split up,” Rory threw in.

They stared at her. 

“Travel in smaller groups, on separate flights, from different airports. We meet up when we get there. It’s not much but it’s more of an edge than we’d have otherwise.”

“It doesn’t have to work long,” Natasha reasoned. “Just long enough. Plus,” she zoomed the map out, “there’s an abandoned Hydra base in Odessa. Stark, you, Sam, and Rhodes could fly there and investigate. That might give them more of a trail to follow. Keep them off ours a little longer.”

“Fine,” Tony relented. “But I have a few presents to distribute before we leave.”

“Presents?” Clint asked.

“Sadly, I had no time for you, Katniss. Check back when Christmas rolls around. No, I just need the Tooth Fairy and Toothless.” When Sam and Rory didn’t immediately jump on their nicknames, he added their real names. Everyone was killing his buzz today.

“Toothless? Really?” Rory complained, following him back to his lab.

“It was that or Smaug,” he told her.

“I might actually prefer Smaug.” She halted dead in her tracks. “Wait, those are the only dragons you know of? What about Saphira? Or anything from Game of Thrones? What the hell?”

Tony shrugged. They were his nicknames to hand out anyway.

He handed Sam’s wing suit to him. “I finished the repairs, fixed some of the wear and tear, oh and I added a little something to help protect against someone ripping off your wings.”

Sam strapped the wing suit to his back. “Thanks, man. Can you make sure someone packs my bag? Or grabs it at least? I think it’s already packed.”

“I will,” Rory told him. 

Tony silently thanked her for it. Sam should know be now that he wouldn’t remember.

Sam headed back to the conference room, promising to wait for Tony and Rhodes before he took off.

That left Rory.

Tony had thought long and hard about designing her suit. He could have designed something similar for Pepper but she wasn’t going on this trip. Someone had to stay back and keep an eye on the Tower. He’d have time once he got back to make her one because she’d need it. Sooner rather than later if current events were anything to go by.

Rory held the suit up.

“It’s a lightweight polymer, designed to withstand the heat of Extremis,” he explained, a touch of pride in his voice. What could he say? It wasn’t bad work for only a couple of weeks.

Rory traced along the spikes and scales. “Everything is heat resistant?”

“Every molecule,” he assured her. “It should also be able to protect from projectiles but don’t depend on it.”

“I see why you went with Toothless,” she commented on the way out of the lab.

About fucking time. The suit was completely black. Not at all like Smaug or any of the others she’d mentioned. For once he enjoyed the appreciation for his nicknames.

The conference room was in no better shape this time around.

Pepper noticed his entrance and called out in her best CEO voice. That was the voice that got everyone’s attention no matter the situation. It didn’t fail her now. “Alright everyone, listen up!” 

“Tony, I called Rhodey. He’s on his way. When he gets here, you, him and Sam will leave immediately for Odessa. Someone else will get your bags. Thor, can you guys meet them there?”

Thor checked with Sif and the others. “That should not be a problem.”

Pepper nodded. “Good. Tony, keep an open line of communication with them. That leaves Rory, Bruce, Clint, Nat, and Maria. Have I left anyone out? Speak up now-“

“Or forever hold your peace,” Clint muttered under his breath.

Natasha shot him a glare and he shut up.

“Clint, you and Nat will be flying out of Newark. I’ll have a plane arranged for you within the hour. Rory, you’ll be with Bruce and Maria. I’ve been checking available covers for you and there’s a conference being held at the Tara Shevchenko National University. I’ll speak to the chair of the event and arrange for passes. You can take the private jet from LaGuardia. Happy can escort you.” She turned to Maria. “I’m assuming you can fly a plane?”

“I’m a little rusty but I can manage.”

As people hurried from the room to pack and prepare, Tony had to admire the ease with which Pepper got everyone in line. Not even the Captain could make it look that easy. Turning chaos into order was a gift Tony would never have.

He’d made an excellent decision making her CEO.

He and Sam headed up to the helipad to wait for Rhodey to arrive, Sam running the last few specks he needed to on his suit and Tony letting J.A.R.V.I.S. assemble his suit once they got up there.

Rhodey took his sweet time. Tony made sure to tell him so once he arrived, looking all dapper in his star-spangled armor.

The Iron Patriot armor held up its arms to ward off Tony’s ire. “Look, man,” Rhodey said through the comm system. “Do you have any idea how many hoops I had to jump through to get here? You’re lucky they let me leave at all.” He turned to Sam. “Who’s this?”

Tony introduced them.

Sam smiled. “Always glad to meet a fellow soldier.” He held his hand out for Rhodey to shake, well for Iron Patriot to shake. “Although,” he commented, examining the colorful suit, “I think Cap might think you’re edging in on his turf, man.”

Iron Patriot was still a dumb name. Tony just decided to let that argument alone for the time being. He’d get his digs in later.

“So what exactly is the situation? Pepper wasn’t very forthcoming.”

Tony shrugged. “The lines could have been bugged.”

He didn’t have to see Rhodey to know his eyebrows shot into his hairline. “You’re worried about your lines being bugged? Why?”

“Hydra,” Sam told him. Straight and to the point. Tony had really taken a liking to the guy.

“They have Captain America and his once-dead best friend James Barnes. You might know him better as the Winter Soldier. The information they could get from Barnes, just from his DNA really, could allow them to make an army no nation on this Earth could fight.”

“That’s-uh-that’s not a half-bad excuse really,” Rhodey admitted.

“Good enough for your bosses in DC?” Tony pressed.

“It should be,” Rhodey confirmed.

“Good, then let’s scram.”

The three of them shot into the air.

***

Thor managed to pull Bruce aside before he left with Hill and the other woman, Rory.

“Banner, can you more fully explain what is happening? Agent Hill told Jane very little, only that your Captain and his friend were missing and had to found as quickly as possible.” When Jane had contacted him, she’d sounded so nervous, so urgent, but she couldn’t provide him with enough information.

“Captain Rogers spent seventy years trapped in a sheet of ice after defeating a cult called Hydra. He lost his best friend doing that. Fast forward to now. Hydra had been hiding inside S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Captain’s friend wasn’t dead. Hydra brainwashed him and turned him into a weapon. The Captain got him back, not completely—whether all his memories will come back, that’s anyone’s guess. Now Hydra’s got them both and all the research we’d done on his genetic code. Hydra unlocks that, we have an army on our hands.”

“That would be disastrous for your people,” Sif commented.

Bruce scoffed. “Yeah, I think I had that figured. I’m more worried about Barnes. He managed to escape from Hydra once. They might make sure he can’t do it again.”

“You think they would kill him?” The thought horrified Thor.

Bruce shook his head. “Worse. I think they’d turn him back into their personal attack dog.”

“I thought humanity was more evolved than this,” the blond Warrior remarked acidly.

“Afraid you might have had too high an option of us then—I’m sorry, I don’t actually know your name,” Bruce said.

The Warrior raised his head slightly, exuding cockiness. “Fandral.” He motioned to his companions. ‘This is Hogan and this is Volstagg.”

“I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”

Thor laid a hand on his shoulder. “So do we all. Let us complete this business quickly and mayhap our visit will not have completely gone to waste.”

“Bruce!” Rory called for him. “We’re leaving!”

“We will meet you in Kiev, Banner,” Thor promised him.

“This may not be a battle the humans can win,” Sif warned him as Bruce walked away.

“I know,” Thor replied. “If they’re to have a chance, we must be willing to help them anyway we can.” 

The five of them trekked to the top of the Tower for clear access to the sky.

“Heimdall, when you’re ready.”

They vanished in a flash of light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I'd like to apologize. No resolution to the cliffhanger yet. I know, I know. I'm sorry. Sort of.
> 
> Not really.
> 
> Second, thanks to all you lovely people for reading and leaving comments, everything. The last chapter got way more of a response than I expected. It blew me away.
> 
> Hope you continue to enjoy :)


	19. Chapter 19

Steve came to to the roar of airplane engines. He raised his head and immediately regretted the decision. The world tilted violently and Steve covered his mouth to keep from throwing up. He counted to twenty before trying to move again.

The first thing he saw when his vision cleared, besides the energy running the length of the bars of their cell, was Bucky. Bucky, whose eyes were blown wide, who was rocking back and forth with his arms wrapped around his knees that he’d pulled into his chest.

He crawled across the floor, fighting back waves of nausea, grains of sand digging into his hands. 

Bucky didn’t look at him. He kept focusing on some point in the distance.

“Bucky?” he asked tentatively. “You with me?”

Bucky’s eyes shifted to him and his heart clenched painfully at the fear—no, the terror—he saw there.

“I can’t go back,” Bucky whispered, full of desperation. He started repeating the words as if they alone could hold off the fate that awaited him when they landed, wherever they landed.

Steve didn’t know what to do. His own fear blanketed him and he couldn’t breathe. As much as Bucky couldn’t go back, Steve couldn’t let him go back. He couldn’t let that trauma happen again, not when Bucky was finally, slowly, starting to mend. He couldn’t lose the man he loved yet again. Not now that he finally admitted to himself that it was actually love that he felt.

Steve sat beside Bucky and eased him out of the fetal position.

In that moment, they were back in the slums of New York, huddled together for warmth because neither had enough money to have the heater working at full capacity. Back then, they were afraid to go hungry, afraid to freeze, afraid to fall sick, afraid to die. Afraid to abandon each other.

Some things time couldn’t change.

Steve found Bucky’s hand and laced their fingers together. 

Bucky squeezed back hard enough to break bone, conveying his fear greater than anything he could say.

Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky’s temple. He wanted to promise that everything would be okay, that Hydra wouldn’t strip away everything that Bucky had regained and reform him into the weapon he was before. But he couldn’t. However, there was one thing he could promise. “Bucky, no matter what happens when we land, if they take you back, know that, as long as I am able, I will come back for you. I will not leave you with them any longer than I have to.”

“You can’t promise that,” Bucky protested weakly.

“Yes, I can,” Steve countered. “You know me, Buck. I’m a stubborn son of a bitch.”

“They’ll kill you.”

Steve knew he meant “I’ll kill you.”

“That’s not gonna stop me, not as long as they’d like anyway.”

Bucky looked up at him like he was the entire world. “See, when you say shit like that, I can almost believe it.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Kinda the idea.”

Bucky’s eyes roamed over him as if he were committing each and every aspect of him to a memory that he might lose before the day was out. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

Steve pulled him close and rested his head on top of Bucky’s. “You will never lose me, Buck. You hear me?”

Bucky melted in his arms. “I hear you.”

Steve prayed that the others were looking for them, that their time with Hydra would be limited. He prayed to a God he’d lost faith in for so long for mercy and for Bucky’s safety over his.

The plane hit turbulence and Bucky panicked. He clawed at Steve, trying to get away.

Steve let him go. He knew better than to keep him trapped.

Bucky paced the floor of their cell, his eyes unable to find a good place to focus on, his hands unable to stay still. 

The pacing didn’t last long. 

Bucky collapsed to his knees. He was gulping down air, clutching his chest. “I-I can’t-I can’t- I can’t breathe,” he gasped out.

Steve was by his side in an instant. “Bucky, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m right here.”

Bucky kept gasping. Tears streamed down his face.

Steve grabbed his hands. “What did you always tell me what I had my asthma attacks?”

“To-“ gasp “-relax.”

Steve nodded. “And to slow my breathing down.” He rubbed tiny circles with his thumbs into Bucky’s hands. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

His friend’s breathing slowly evened out.

“I’m so scared,” he confessed, so soft, Steve barely heard him.

“I know. Me too,” Steve admitted in return.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I’m sorry for dragging you into this.” Bucky sounded so miserable.

Steve slid a hand up Bucky’s face. “You didn’t. You said you have a choice with me? Back at ya.”

He leaned in and gently brushed his lips against Bucky’s.

“You’re my choice,” he murmured, not pulling away. 

The noise Bucky made was somewhere between relief and disbelief. He ran his fingers through Steve’s hair and pulled him in for another kiss.

Contrary to Natasha’s teasing, Steve had experience kissing, both before the ice and after. Nothing compared to this though, to their mouths slowly, and ironically almost lazily, moving against each other, Bucky’s stubble scratching his face. 

He moaned and Bucky tightened his hold on the back of his head, a hint of his desperation creeping into the kiss.

He’d always thought he’d feel like he was floating, whenever he kissed someone he loved. It had been true with Peggy. Kissing Bucky was entirely different. It grounded him, strengthened him.

Never before had something felt that right.

They broke apart, both gasping for breath for a whole different reason. 

Bucky said something rapidly in Russian, numbing sadness creeping into his gaze. When Steve raised his eyebrows expectantly, he translated, “It’s the worst irony to find something you’ve searched your life for only to lose it again.” He managed a weak smile.

“Your whole life?” Steve backtracked, his brain temporarily ceasing all function.

Bucky ducked his head. “I still don’t remember a lot from before the war but that came back pretty early on.”

“All that time, you never said,” Steve replied. Had they really wasted all that time? Time even before the war when Steve felt…something for Bucky—he’d been too naïve to understand it and once he did, too afraid to name it.

“Not exactly something you admitted back then,” Bucky retorted. 

He had a point, Steve mused. One of the best things about waking up in the future was discovering that particular stigma hadn’t followed him. 

“Besides, you never said anything either,” Bucky continued.

“I think I was afraid of ruining the one good thing I had. I had you when I had nothing else. What if I’d told you and you hadn’t…?” his voice trailed off. “I guess I was just afraid of losing you.” He scoffed. “Seems really stupid now.”

“When did you figure it out?” Bucky asked, genuinely curious.

“For certain?” 

Bucky nodded.

“When I found you in that Hydra facility,” Steve told him. The truth fell so easily from his lips. “I’d thought you were dead. It kinda puts things in perspective.”

Bucky didn’t know how to react to that just as Steve hadn’t known how to react to what Bucky had told him. 

“I wish I’d known,” he murmured.

“So do I.”

The plane shuddered and tilted forward. Steve felt his stomach jump into his throat as the plane eased out from under him. No. No, no, no. Not now. Not this soon. They couldn’t be landing already. In a way, the thought made no sense. He had no idea where they were but he just knew that they should have had more time. This wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t fair.

Bucky’s mask slipped into place, turning him back into something before Bucky had fully clawed his way out through Hydra’s scars. 

Steve wasn’t going to have that.

He crushed Bucky in a hug that would have snapped the bones in someone else. Bucky hesitated before crushing Steve right back. The metal arm dug into his back and it hurt but, God, it hurt so good.

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky drew back, tears rolling down his face. “Steve…” His voice held a hint of awe, as if he couldn’t quite believe what Steve was saying. The mask softened at the edges.

“No, fuck it. I don’t know what’s about to happen and I was so stupid not to tell you before.” Steve enunciated the next three words to make sure Bucky understood how much he meant them. “I love you.”

Bucky yanked him forward, kissing him hard enough to bruise.

Steve ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair, moaning into his mouth. He ran his tongue along Bucky’s lips.

Bucky exhaled and let Steve in.

Steve took what precious little time they had left to show Bucky how much he loved him since he seemed not to understand it in words.

“You’re damn stupid, you know that, kid?” Bucky asked him in between taking deep breaths to calm his breathing.

“Some of it must have rubbed off,” Steve teased.

They jolted sideways as the plane’s wheels made contact with the ground. The atmosphere shifted.

Bucky’s eyes went wide. “Steve?”

Steve grabbed his shoulders. “Listen to me. No matter what they do, you will remember. You’ll remember you, me, this. It may take time but you’ll come back. You’re too stubborn not too.”

“I could do a lot of bad before that happens.” He watched Steve reach behind his neck and unclasp his dog tags. “I can’t take those,” he protested.

“Tough. I’m giving them to you.” Steve pressed them into Bucky’s metal hand.

Bucky didn’t get another chance to protest.

The hatch door opened, letting in blinding sunlight.

Blinking to get accustomed to the change in brightness, Steve stood. 

Bucky stood up as well.

Hydra might be about to split them up for God knows what but they’d face that side by side.

“Give ‘em hell, Buck.”

***

“Sir,” a technician spoke up. “The plane has landed. The pilot is requesting assistance.”

His lips curled up in a snarl.

“So, the prodigal son returns?”

The technician stared at him blankly, clearly having no idea what he was talking about. Ah well. Not everyone could be blessed to be as high up in Hydra as he was.

“Send three squadrons to aid the transfer of the prisoners. Make sure they are split up. We need the asset. The captain can burn for all I care.”

Another technician, a higher level technician, pointed out, “The captain has genetic enhancements as well. We could try to extract whatever was used on him and improve the serum used on Sergeant Barnes.”

He thought about it for a second. Having the two of them in the same base was asking for the Avengers to attack them. There were protective measures to slow them down but it was still something to worry about. He wasn’t sure how much they cared to get the asset back but the captain…half of the United States would fight to protect him.

Still, the idea of unlocking the secrets in his genetic code as well was too tempting to pass up. The original genetic experiment. Erskine’s serum.

The possibilities were endless.

“Take them to separate labs. Be sure to restrain them.” 

The higher level technician nodded and went to pass on the orders.

He called after him, “Oh, and remember they have much higher metabolisms than normal. It will take much higher dosages of sedative to bring them down.”

“Yes, sir.”

He sent the other technicians away and strode to the window of the air control tower to watch fifty of his most highly trained soldiers escort his prisoners into the base.

Fury might have killed Pierce, leaving a power vacuum in Hydra’s upper echelons, and Project Insight might have crashed and burned, literally, into the Potomac, but Hydra could not be taken out with such childish gestures. The army he could create, was already creating, with the information gathered by Dr. Callahan would far surpass even Pierce’s wildest dreams.

He smiled coldly. “Cut off one head and two more shall take its place,” he muttered.

These idiots would never learn.

It was time to greet his new guests, make them feel welcome.

Crossbones strode from the tower.

He loved it when he won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we have our villain. :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with how to write this chapter. I've left a few things unexplained for the moment. Just bear with me until the next couple of chapters. 
> 
> That being said, this chapter could make people uncomfortable so be warned going in.

Bucky fought the sedative with everything he could muster. His limbs felt heavy. His eyelids felt heavy. His body, traitor that it was, just wanted to sleep. Through determination alone, he stayed awake.

Steve’s last words to him had been “Give ‘em hell.”

He intended to do just that.

The technicians wheeled him into the base, an abandoned military installation that Hydra had seen fit to occupy. It certainly wasn’t the bank vault that had been his last home as Hydra’s puppet. Everything felt old. Rust covered the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Even the air tasted metallic.

He was wheeled into something resembling a cell. The same strange energy traversed the bars. It was too similar to the weapons Hydra had built from the Tesseract so he did his best to avoid touching anything that glowed.

He didn’t have much time to contemplate it.

A vaguely familiar voice taunted him from a place he didn’t have the strength to look to.

“Well, well. Look who’s home.”

The door to the cell clanged shut, leaving Bucky alone with a man whose name he didn’t know.

As the sedative wore off, Bucky could move. Slowly, yes, but still.

He wasn’t prepared for the horror that was the man before him. What little skin he could see, mostly on the man’s face, was horribly burned. The scar tissue was still forming, giving him the appearance of some horrible monster out of a 40s science flick. The face he knew from the vault, one of Pierce’s henchmen.

“They thought I was dead, you see,” the man spoke. “After the helicarrier crashed into the Triskelion, on top of me, they all left me for dead. But I was pulled from the rubble. Hydra found me, healed me.” He cracked his knuckles. “I’m a lot like you now actually. They even healed me with a similar serum.”

Bucky scrambled off the gurney.

“You can’t run from us here,” the man said. “You never could.” He got right in Bucky’s face. How had he moved so quickly? “You’re gonna wake up and find you never left.”

“It was all a dream………”

***

Bucky woke on a cot in a tiny metal cell, a cell that he had woken up in on many occasions after his missions before they put him back on ice. A technician, a woman this time, brought him food.

“Crossbones wants an update from your mission yesterday,” she informed him, brisk and unemotional.

Mission? Yesterday? What was she talking about?

He must have said that out loud because her face hardened.

“Your mission you returned from yesterday? To infiltrate the Avengers?” she pressed. “You mean you don’t remember?”

“I think you need to stop talking,” he growled.

She slammed the door to his cell. Her voice filtered through the metal grating. “The asset is unresponsive. Recommend moving to the next phase.”

Bucky leaned back against the wall, the clank reverberating in the small space. What the hell had she been talking about? His mission? He had no mission. He’d left Hydra a free man.

Hadn’t he?

He opened his metal hand and saw the dog tags he’d clutched to so desperately. Steve gave those to him yesterday. At least he thought it was yesterday. With the artificial light and no windows, he had no way of marking the passage of time.

They left him in there at least two days he thought. He’d tried to sleep twice. 

The lights never went off. 

“It was all a dream,” Pierce crowed. “None of it was real.”

***

Bucky woke in the lab, strapped to a table. The doctor bustling over him looked familiar. He struggled to place where he’d seen him.

Stark Tower.

Next to Rory. Her twin brother.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” he observed, not a trace of emotion in his voice or on his face.

“Where I am?”

“You’re in Kiev,” the doctor explained patiently. “You finished up a mission which required you to be in New York. The Avengers had taken a journal from an old base here in the city. We sent you to retrieve it.”

What?

He had been in New York but that wasn’t why. 

Was it? 

He’d been there to save Steve, to keep Hydra from him. He wouldn’t have helped Hydra get the journal back. They could use it for…what could they use it for again?

“You suffered a serious head injury so your memory may be a bit hazy. You might remember things incorrectly,” the doctor continued.

It wasn’t true. 

He’d escaped from Hydra.

They’d captured him again.

Steve.

Steve had kissed him.

Had given him his dog tags.

He remembered that.

Why did it not feel real anymore?

***

Crossbones dragged him to another room the day he vocally protested, the day he refused to believe the lies they were trying to feed him.

He kept the dog tags wrapped around his metal hand, tightly enough that no one noticed they were there. That was his sole reminder of the time Hydra was trying to erase.

Electricity shot through his metal arm, rendering it useless. It hung by his side. He couldn’t move it. 

Crossbones’ knuckles connected with his face. 

He stumbled backward. Just his luck. How was he supposed to fight back with a busted arm?

“You think you’d know when to just give up. You used to be so much easier to control,” Crossbones snarled.

Each word he accentuated with some form of physical pain. A punch, a slap, a knee to the groin. Over and over again until that was all Bucky knew.

“Admit it. You are wrong! Someone would have come for you by now if things happened like you seem to think they did!”

When Bucky refused to break, Crossbones tried something different.

It took three heavily armed soldiers to lift him up and strap him to the walls of the cell, electricity ripping through Bucky’s body, forcing a scream from his lungs.

Nothing had ever hurt so badly.

This wasn’t real.

This couldn’t be real.

***

“Bucky! Bucky! Wake up!”

Steve’s face was above him, wide eyed and panicked. 

What the hell was going on?

“Steve…?” he tried to say but ended up rounding over the bed and vomiting into a bucket that Steve had luckily grabbed in time. Steve sat beside him on the bed and pulled his hair out of his face. When he could talk, he asked, “What happened? I thought that-“

“That you were being tortured, mentally, emotionally, and physically?” Steve finished for him, looking abashed. “You weren’t quiet, Buck.”

Bucky groaned and collapsed into the bed. It was more of a cot, a very uncomfortable cot at that.

“They gave us something to knock us out. I pulled out pretty quickly. You didn’t. You were starting to scare me.” His voice turned quiet and he couldn’t quite meet Bucky’s eyes.

“Hell of a downer,” Bucky retorted. A low throbbing started at the base of his head and, without a lot of fanfare, radiated around to his temples, under his eyes, into his sinuses. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

They startled back open when Steve scooted closer and pressed a warm hand to his forehead, massaging away some of the pain. He relaxed into the touch.

“The headache’s a bitch but it doesn’t last too long,” Steve assured him. “There was a hallucinogen they must have added.”

“It felt so real,” he whispered. “It was how they started before.”

Steve nudged the bucket out of his way and knelt down in the floor so he could be eye level with Bucky. “I’m sorry they made you relive that.”

Something in his voice set off warning bells in Bucky’s mind. Something was off about the whole scenario. Hydra wasn’t stupid. They wouldn’t keep two high value prisoners together. He eased his eyes open again and looked down.

The dog tags weren’t in his hand.

He glanced back to Steve but his friend’s face was morphing into something between Pierce and Crossbones. 

He couldn’t watch anymore.

He didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t.

He curled up into a ball and wished for whatever this was to stop.

***

Explosions rocked the base. Crossbones stared at the infrared data. The Avengers had brought a little more heat than he’d anticipated.

At least, he would make their rescue attempt difficult.

“Prep the asset and freeze it. Lock the Captain in the Vault.”

Workers scrambled to obey his every word.

***

Steve let the soldiers manhandle him through the corridors and tunnels. He needed to save his strength. Fighting now would buy him, would buy Bucky, nothing even though the screams he’d been hearing in the hours after their capture set his teeth on edge.

He didn’t know what they were doing to Bucky but as soon as he could, he was going to make them pay for it.

The explosions rocking the base had been a surprise. He hoped it was Sam and Nat and the others but there was no feasible way they could have tracked where Hydra had taken them not when he didn’t even know where he was.

The soldiers shoved him roughly into a cell that might have been big enough for a small dog. Except for a metal grate in the ceiling and a slot in the door, the walls were bare. The floor was bare. There was nothing in the cell to distract him.

If he was being completely honest with himself, he knew if anything had been in there with him once the soldiers locked the door, it would have ended up in pieces. The anger and frustration at letting something else happen to Bucky overflowed what even Steve could withstand.

When they got out of this, and Hydra was put down for good, maybe they could take a vacation. They all needed a vacation. Let the world take care of itself for a change.

Only a few more muffled explosions kept his hope for rescue alive. He must have been farther underground than he’d first thought. The explosions were louder earlier.

Well, Rogers, look’s like your goose is well and truly cooked, he thought wryly. 

Now what?

He didn’t have an answer.

Then he heard a familiar sound, a sound more distinctive than explosions. Hulk’s roar. The soldiers outside his cell were at a loss for what to do. Their raised, panicked voices filtering in through the slat on the door. A few hurried away judging by how the thudding of their boots faded.

Maybe they weren’t so cooked after all.

“Smash,” he murmured to himself, remembering the last time he’d said that to the Hulk, how the monster that Banner became ripped apart an alien army with his bare hands. Hydra didn’t stand a chance against something like that.

A fight broke out in the corridor. At least, Steve assumed it was a fight. A very quick one. A very familiar, very welcome face peeked in through the slat. 

“Rogers, you in there?” Nat asked.

“What do you think?” he groused back.

Her chuckle faded as she pulled back from the opening. “I’d back up if I were you!” she called out.

Steve took her advice and pressed himself into the far corner, away from the door.

Two well-placed shots broke through the locking mechanism, letting the door swing open into the cell.

Nat sauntered inside like she owned it, like they weren’t working against the clock. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” she teased.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” he replied, relief bordering on giddiness rushing through him.

She helped him out of the cell.

“Where’s everyone else?”

Gunshots and Hill swearing loudly answered his question.

Clint bolted down the hall, Hill right on his heels. “We got company!” He slung Steve’s shield off his back and tossed it to him. “Thought you might need that.”

Steve nodded his thanks and hooked the shield on his arm.

Hill leapt behind Steve as a line of soldiers appeared around the corner. She shot over her shoulder as she jumped, taking two of them out.

Both sides stood still, a momentary breather, taking the time to size each other up.

They didn’t stand a chance against two trained assassins, a sharp-shooting agent, and a very pissed off super soldier.

As they darted down the corridor, Steve pulled Nat aside. “Where’s Bucky?”

“Stark and Callahan are trying to find him.”

“You know for sure he’s still here?” 

She shrugged. “We have a very accurate source of intel. Led us right to you.”

Steve had no idea who she could be talking about. They hadn’t found Nate Callahan before Hydra made its move. Who else could have known where they were?

“He’s an Asgardian,” she added to clarify. After letting him digest that for a moment, she grabbed him by the arm. “Come on, we got your lover boy to find and a base to destroy.”


	21. Chapter 21

Rory didn’t like this plan. Extremis made her a fighter, something wild and out of control, when she let it out to play. Sneaking into a super secret base, an impossibly heavy pack on her back, with Iron Man beside her to look for a wayward super assassin wasn’t that. This had not been in her job description.

They’d all made it to Kiev, some by way of Odessa, without a hitch. No one accosted them. No one so much as paid them a second glance. It seemed splitting up bought them valuable time and the element of surprise.

Tony blasted open the metal door.

She should really ask for a pay raise.

Through her comm mike, she heard Sam and Rhodes securing the perimeter, laying waste to the vast array of planes and tanks the base had at its disposal. Hill, Romanoff, and Barton had taken another entrance into the base to look for the Captain. They’d all breathed a sigh of relief when Romanoff reported they’d found Rogers. Hulk and Thor, along with Thor’s buddies, were making a mess distracting Hydra’s forces. The occasional bolt of lightning alongside Hulk’s roar made her smile though.

Truthfully, she couldn’t fault the plan they’d come up with. Have the experienced soldiers doing the soldier stuff, the spies do the sneaking, and the monsters breaking shit. But why, on God’s green earth, had they paired up the engineer with the biologist?

She was mad for fuck’s sake. Since the discovery of Nate’s betrayal, she’d moped around Avengers Tower like some half-dead thing. Now that she was out of bed and physically doing something all she wanted to do was blow something up.

The suit Tony had designed for her though—totally awesome. It moved like a dream, completely silent. She felt like a ninja. 

With close to zero training.

And how anyone thought they would sneak anywhere with the Iron Man armor clanking against the metal floor was beyond her but they meant little resistance. What little they did meet, what wasn’t out dealing with Hulk and Friends, Rory finished off quickly. They had no time for this.

“How close are we to the coordinates Thor gave us?” she asked.

“We should be pretty close,” Tony replied, scanning the base. He pointed down a side corridor. “He should be down here.”

The corridor was narrow, uncomfortably so. Stark went first, illuminating the path ahead with the arc reactor in his suit. She kept an eye out for anyone coming up behind them. Not that she wouldn’t have heard them first but she felt better checking.

“Aurora,” Tony said.

She stopped short. He never referred to her by name, let alone by her full first name. Something was very wrong.

She recovered enough to catch up to him and followed his gaze.

There, in the wall, in a cryo-stasis chamber, was Barnes.

Words failed her. She’d watched some of the leaked information documenting the treatment of the Winter Soldier and had had to look away from some of the more gruesome footage. Seeing it in front of her was much more shocking, more disturbing. She clenched her fists, feeling them glow hot with barely controlled anger.

Her brother had done this. His betrayal had made this possible, subjecting a good man to unimaginable tortures.

She had to undo that damage. If her depression over Nate hadn’t been stoked into anger before, it was now.

“Can we reverse the icing?” she asked. 

Tony walked around the stasis tube, examining panels and wiring. 

“It doesn’t look like a complicated system but the de-icing process itself is complex. Each step must be done in order or serious damage could be done,” J.A.R.V.I.S. explained.

“Okay, J.A.R.V.I.S., walk us through this process,” Tony told him.

Rory shouldered off her backpack and removed all of the supplies, tuning out the calm voice of the AI as he prattled off instructions to Tony. Heimdall must have seen that Bucky was in cryo, she reasoned. That’s why Thor suggested she and Tony go after him. The engineer and the biologist, the closest thing they had to a doctor.

Should’ve seen that coming.

She prepared an array of medical equipment while Tony fiddled with one of the side panels.

He hit one button and the tube lit up. 

Heat radiated from the generator at the base.

She glanced up at Tony. “Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah, seems to be the first step in thawing him out,” he reasoned

He wasn’t wrong. Before she could ask any more questions, a horrifying scream filled the corridor. She was on her feet to look inside the tube.

Bucky’s eyes were squeezed shut. He sucked in deep breaths between screams, primal screams that ripped from his throat. 

“That not so much,” Tony mused.

“Get this open. Get it open now.”

Tony worked quickly to do just that, his fingers dancing across the panels. At his command, the tube hissed open.

Bucky was still mostly frozen, mostly paralyzed. She wasn’t afraid of him attacking her but she would have preferred he had the option. She slipped under one of the flaps, armed only with a butterfly needle, a couple of tubes, and alcohol swabs. Quickly and skillfully, she cleaned the inside of his elbow, shuddering at how cold his skin felt, and drew vials of blood. 

“Hold that cotton swab and press it down to stop the bleeding,” she ordered.

Despite the strange inversion of the boss/employee relationship, Tony did what she asked.

“He’s got several puncture marks here, Toothless,” he told her.

She slid the vials into the portable computer. “You didn’t think they wouldn’t draw blood, did you? That’s how they got what they needed. Then they locked him up the only way they could.” She glanced back at Barnes, at the terror etched into his face. “Fucking animals.”

J.A.R.V.I.S. returned an analysis of the blood and she swore so vehemently, Tony peered over her shoulder. 

The list of drugs in his system was extensive. Any one of which, at the dosages running through his veins, deadly to a normal human.

Her eyes landed on a couple she helped develop for schizophrenia patients as part of her bioengineering thesis. 

The world turned red. The edge of the computer under her hands glowed and melted.

She was seething. She had not gone through the education she had to see her research used like this.

Sam’s voice called out from the back of her mind. “You gotta control Extremis and anything that could trigger it.” Control. She had to control it. She took a couple of deep breaths and cooled down, letting the poor computer recover.

“With a mix like this, they wouldn’t need to torture him,” she told Tony, her voice thin. “He’d be trapped in his own mind. He’d do all their work for him.”

“Nathaniel?” Tony asked even though they both knew full well it had to be him.

She shut the machine and stored the vials. “No one else would know to do this.”

Tony returned his attention to Barnes. “How do we snap him out of it? The screaming’s really starting to get on my nerves.”

Much as she hated to agree… “I can’t risk putting anything else in his system,” she admitted. 

“You can try flushing his system,” the AI mentioned.

A light bulb came on. “That’s brilliant, J.A.R.V.I.S.” She yanked open a section of the kit she’d assembled and rummaged through until she found what she was looking for. The bottle she held up for Tony to examine held a sickly greenish colored liquid. “This is something Dr. Banner and I have been working on since I started with Stark Industries. Even Nate didn’t know about it. It was more Banner’s baby than mine.”

“Still, you packed it. That’s good thinking. What does it do?”

Before she could explain, Tony flew back against the wall of the corridor. His suit clanged and she flinched. She hadn’t heard anyone approach which meant… well, it meant she was parted from her equipment as a metal arm yanked her back by the collar of her suit. 

The metal wall dug through the fabric into her flesh and she bit back a cry. Barnes was in her face faster than she could think, that metal hand wrapping neatly around her throat, squeezing the life out of her.

She clawed at his arm but her nails got no traction against the metal. Extremis flared up, trying to repair the damage from the prolonged lack of oxygen. As her vision faded, she saw Tony struggling to get up.

Strong hands pulled Barnes off of her. Something clattered to the ground from his hand. It took her a second to recover, coughing and hacking, letting precious air back into her lungs. The owners of the hands weren’t friendly.

Hydra soldiers.

Extremis already in high gear from healing, she leapt to her feet and charged head first at one of them. He flew through the air and hit a support beam with a sickening crunch. Her hands found another soldier, one with an iron grip on Barnes, and burned into him. He loosened his grip, howling in pain, and she ended his misery with a burst of fire to his chest.

Barnes, now partially free, recalibrated his metal arm and threw an assailant over his shoulder. Iron Man shot the man before he could recover.

Which left only one.

Rory inhaled, filling her lungs to capacity, and breathed out fire, completely covering him. 

He ran from the corridor, his screams echoing, fading, before they stopped entirely.

She collapsed to the ground, her head swimming. 

Barnes stood between her and Tony.

“Stark, Callahan, status report,” Natasha’s voice said from the comm. 

“In a minute,” Tony replied, fully prepared to stop Barnes if he made any sudden movements. “Toothless, you good?”

She groaned. “My head’s buzzin’ and I’m soaked but otherwise I’m fine.” The quote might not have exactly fit the circumstances but in its own way, it would tell Tony she was struggling but would be okay. She looked up at Barnes and spread her arms. “You want another go?”

He stared at her in confusion. “Why did you do that?”

She glanced at the carnage around them. Her brow furrowed. “This?”

He shook his head. “Why did you save me?”

She rose to her knees, having to bend over for a second to fight back a wave of nausea. “You met us before, in New York. We’re here to get you.”

“No-no you’re not. That’s not true.” He backed away from her.

“I know you’ve seen things, so many things, that haven’t been real, hallucinations, horrors. You’ve been reliving memories, mixing them with other, more recent, experiences. It’s an effect of the cocktail they dosed you with. And I know there’s no way to convince you we’re real.”

She reached for what Barnes had dropped. Turning the object over in her hand, she saw “Steven Rogers” etched into the metal. 

She held her hand out with the dog tags sitting in her palm. “I think you dropped these.”

Tony watched from the sideline as Barnes reached forward and took the dog tags from her. She could see in his eyes she’d earned a sliver of trust.

“I can undo some of the effects of the drugs if you’ll let me.”

Barnes moved out of her way, letting her get to her med pack, watching her every move.

“Toothless, we’re about to have company,” Tony warned her.

She found the bottle and filled up a syringe. “Hold ‘em off for a sec. I’ll be right there.” 

She stuck the syringe between her teeth as Tony engaged a new group of Hydra thugs. Hopping to her feet, she returned to Barnes. She ripped open his shirtsleeve and cleaned a swath of skin with alcohol. With no warning, she jabbed the syringe into his arm and expelled the liquid.

The corridor exploded over their heads. Tony raced toward them. “We got incoming! Go!”

She pushed Barnes in front of her.

Another explosion.

“The stability of this corridor down to 19%. High probability of collapse,” J.A.R.V.I.S informed them.

A ceiling panel fell down, cutting Rory off from Tony and Barnes, as if to illustrate the AI’s point. She ducked around it. The third explosion damaged the cement foundation above the corridor. At some point in the future, she’d regret the decision she was about to make but Barnes was standing directly under a weak spot. As the foundation broke, sending tons of rubble into the corridor, she kicked Barnes in the chest, sending him flying into Tony.

It was the last coherent thought she had before the debris crushed her.


	22. Chapter 22

Tony scrambled to his feet. “Rory? Rory! Come in!” He pressed against a large cement piece but even with the power of the suit, the debris wouldn’t budge. “Rory, are you okay?”

God, if she’d died… that would be on him.

“Rory! Come on!”

A groan came through the comm in his suit. It wasn’t much but it was an assurance she was still breathing.

Come on, he thought, let the Extremis kick in, as if by willpower alone he could help her out.

“Ow,” she moaned. He heard debris clatter around her. 

“Come on, Toothless,” he muttered. 

“My name’s not Toothless,” she snapped back before gritting out, “Stupid, fucking, boulder.”

“What’s your status?” he asked, afraid to know.

“Well, surprisingly, I’m still alive,” she assured him. “Must have-“ another groan “-Extremis to thank for that.” She exhaled and took a few deep breaths. “Leg’s stuck good but the collapse seemed to take out the Hydra soldiers so I’m set for a minute. Get to the rendezvous point. I’ll find another way.”

“Okay, Stark, give me an update or I’ll rip the base apart,” Natasha barked at him. She’d waited long enough for him to get back to her.

“We found Barnes. Ran into some opposition. Rory’s trapped, injured. I can’t get to her.”

Natasha sighed. “I’ll see what Hill and I can do. Get your ass up here ASAP. Rogers is about to shit a brick.”

Tony chuckled despite everything happening around him. He could picture Rogers doing that and it was rather amusing.

He turned to Barnes, saw him sitting with his head against his knees, and realized he was out of his depth. Rory had established the relationship with him. The amnesiac assassin had no reason to help, work with—hell, he didn’t even have a reason to trust him. But the terrified, violent creature they’d freed from the cryo-tube wasn’t there anymore. Whatever Rory had given him must have worked because the man staring back at him was most definitely Barnes.

The man rubbed his eyes and glanced around. “Where am I?”

Tony saw the mental calculations going on in his mind as he struggled to piece the past few days together. “You’re in a Hydra base on the outskirts of Kiev. They captured you and Rogers about 86 hours ago if Romanoff’s guesses are accurate.”

“I heard that, Stark,” she snapped at him.

Barnes leaned his head back against the wall. He was struggling to regain a grip on reality. “It felt like so much longer.” 

“I can imagine but you gotta be completely back with me. You with that?” Tony asked.

Bucky nodded. “I didn’t hurt either of ya too bad, did I?”

Tony assured him he hadn’t. “You got lucky with Rory though. A few more seconds and she would’ve snapped. You’d have lost an arm.”

Bucky glanced down the corridor. “She wasn’t that powerful when Hydra attacked before.”

Tony outright laughed. “What I have learned about anyone with Extremis is that they kick ass when they’re pissed.”

“Her brother.” Barnes didn’t state it as a question. 

Tony shrugged, the movement hindered by the suit. “Among other things.” 

“She okay?” And yeah, color Tony surprised, but there was genuine concern in Barnes’ voice when he asked.

“Still breathing, thank you very much,” she griped.

Tony repeated her words to Barnes and watched his face fall slack in shock, confusion, something. 

“I’m gonna run silent for a bit,” she told him. “Need to focus on getting out. You guys be safe, yeah?”

“We’ll try our best,” he assured her. 

“What about Steve?” Barnes asked, voice quiet and cracking. “Have you found him?”

“Romanoff radioed in before we found you. He’s fine.”

Barnes collapsed in relief. He stared at the dog tags in the palm of his hand. Shaking slightly, he put them around his neck.

Tony struggled to not say anything snarky. He had to have stumbled into some epic love story between two out-of-time super soldiers. That was just his luck. He turned toward the sound of boots hitting the floor. “God, these guys just don’t quit do they?”

“What do we do?” Barnes asked, getting to his feet and shifting into a fighting stance. He’d rip the soldiers limb from limb given the chance.

Tony thought about it for the briefest of seconds. “We, uh, we run.” 

They bolted down the corridor and skidded into a storage room, coming face to face with another squad of soldiers. Several guns were leveled at their chests. Barnes froze and Tony saw the almost desperate desire to end it right there cross his face. 

But another explosion rocked the base sending everyone flying. Tony lost sight of Barnes in the ensuing panic. A piece of falling debris landed on his lower leg, bending the ankle back at an awkward angle. His vision went white and he bit back the growing nausea. The ankle was broken. That was all kinds of not good.

Suddenly, he was being dragged from the rubble, one hand latched around the collar of his suit. Barnes miraculously reappeared to save his life.

Tony had no idea what to make of it. This was the man who killed his parents. Right? The two versions he had in his head of the man currently saving his life weren’t compatible.

Barnes let him go once they were safely away from any Hydra soldiers, tucked into an abandoned office. Tony really hadn’t had the chance before to see Barnes’ prosthetic in action but when Barnes grabbed a ceiling-to-floor metal bookcase with it and dragged it over the entranceway like it was nothing, he had to admit he was impressed.

“We should be safe for a moment,” Barnes told him.

Tony released a breath he wasn’t even aware he’d been holding. 

“Any way you can lose the mask? I feel like I’m talking to a robot.”

Yeah, he hadn’t thought of that. The mask was one of the few parts of the suit that wasn’t dinged up too badly. He removed it gently and sat it to one side, letting Barnes get a good look at the face beneath the armor.

Something shifted in Barnes’ expression. “What’d you break?”

“What?”

Barnes pointed at him. Rude. “You’re white as a sheet and you’re sweating like you just ran a mile in summer. And your armor’s busted around your ankle. So I’ll ask again: what did you break?”

“My pride for starters,” Tony quipped. 

He was not intimidated by the glare Barnes gave him. Nope, not a chance.

“Fine,” he relented. “I broke my ankle.”

Barnes nodded. “Can you get out of-“ he motioned at the armor “-this?”

Tony immediately was on the defensive. Barnes might have saved his life but that was asking for a level of trust he hadn’t yet earned. “Why?”

Barnes actually rolled his eyes. It was the most human gesture Tony had seen him make. “So I can look at it. It probably needs setting.” He spoke to Tony like he was speaking to a child.

Tony grumbled but told J.A.R.V.I.S to dismantle the suit.

Barnes watched, clearly impressed, as the suit opened up. Tony didn’t miss how he glanced down at his metal arm or how his face distorted, just for a second, into something that Tony had no other word for but loathing.

The man was seriously fucked up.

Tony couldn’t rightly blame him.

Barnes scooted forward to examine his ankle. He poked and prodded and gently maneuvered the offending joint until a sharp pain shot up Tony’s leg.

Tony groaned. “Yeah, no, not good.”

That seemed to tell Barnes what he needed. His expression hardened. He stood and strode through the room, looking for something. There was a grace to his movements when he was in his element, which Tony had to assume he was. He returned with a couple of metal rods.

“You got experience splinting bone fractures?” Tony asked incredulously.

Barnes didn’t reply as he ripped strips of fabric from his shirt and tied the rods to Tony’s leg to stabilize the ankle.

A real talker, this one.

He was incredibly skilled, finishing the split almost before Tony could blink.

Okay, maybe Tony had made a miscalculation where Barnes was concerned. “Thanks,” he said grudgingly.

Barnes’ hard gaze softened. “Not a problem.” He ran a hand through his hair and chewed his bottom lip.

Was he nervous?

“Look, I get that you hate me,” he started, which was not what Tony was expecting him to say at all. “And you’ve got good reason. I killed your parents. I don’t remember it but I know I did.”

For once in his life, Tony completely backpedaled. “It wasn’t-“

Barnes silenced him with a look. “If I hear one more person say it wasn’t my fault, I’ll strangled them,” he threatened. “It doesn’t matter if I was in control or not. Every person these hands killed, they’re on me.” He sat back and finally met Tony’s gaze. “I’ve spent all these days since I woke up, recovered, however it’s called, wanting to die for the things I’ve done.”

“What made you change your mind?” Tony asked as he activated his suit, leaving the broken piece around his ankle off. He got to his feet, the movement taking all his effort. He supported his weight against the wall to keep it off his foot. 

Barnes’ gaze followed him, his eyes narrowing. 

“They had a clean shot back there,” Tony motioned behind him. “You coulda let ‘em do it. Woulda fixed things up nice and easy.”

Barnes shook his head, now vehemently against the thought. “I had a way out. I had a choice and I haven’t been able to make my own choices for so long…”

“You chose to live,” Tony extrapolated, looking at the man in front of him in a new light. 

Barnes rose. “Besides,” he continued, “couldn’t leave you to fight those bastards alone.” His gaze fell to the ground. “I owed you.”

Huh. “That’s super ballsy. Not sure I could have made the same choice if our places were reversed.” In fact, he knew he couldn’t have. Now though? Well, he was reevaluating. 

Barnes shrugged. “I shouldn’t be alive. I know that. So I have to believe there was a reason for it. Have a lot to make up for.”

Tony felt his mouth curl up. Stupid thing never did what he wanted it to. “Now that’s something I know a little bit about.”

Barnes slung his arm under Tony’s and shifted Tony’s weight from the wall to him. “And I guess I just found something to live for.”

Tony hobbled along beside him, keeping all pressure off his foot. “Might know something about that too,” he quipped. 

“Miss Potts seems like a stellar gal,” Barnes told him. 

Tony scrambled to cover his shock. Really, Tony, you shouldn’t be so surprised, he scolded himself. A master assassin had to be observant.

“You don’t seem to have done too badly yourself, Barnes,” Tony replied. ‘Definitely could have picked worse.”

Barnes chuckled. “You might not say that if you’d known him before he turned into a super soldier.”

Oh, there were stories there he wanted to hear when they got out of this hellhole.

“It’s Bucky, by the way.”

“Sorry?” 

Bucky almost smiled. “You called me Barnes. It’s Bucky.”

“Always thought that was Cap’s thing,” Tony countered.

Bucky shook his head. “It’s my thing.”

“Tony,” Clint’s voiced sounded in his ear. “You need to get to us. We got problems.”

“What’s your location?”

“Northernmost assembly area.” He spoke quietly, urgently.

Tony relayed the information to Bucky. 

They rushed across the compound, as fast as they could with Tony’s broken foot. Finally, Bucky got fed up with how slow they were going and hoisted Tony onto his back.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” Tony groaned.

“It was your own dumb fault, letting yourself get hit with debris,” Bucky snapped back, a trace of humor in his voice.

Tony still had no idea how to react. It would take some time to get used to Bucky as a person, not as a weapon. But he thought maybe he could do it. Not as if he hadn’t made his own mistakes in his life, with a much higher body count. 

If they got out of this alive, he’d have to design a suite for Bucky, on the same floor as Steve. The man needed an actual home.

For now, Barton was worried about something and that never bode well for anybody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading and liking and commenting and everything. Y'all are awesome!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's got a little gore in it so be wary of that. Also, I should probably just say that I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Please don't hate me....

“A person could really get lost in these tunnels,” Hill mused.

Natasha was inclined to agree. Even though they had Rory’s last known coordinates, actually finding her was a challenge in itself. The network of corridors reminded her of the bunker in Lost. No good reason why. It just did.

They found Rory still buried under the landslide of cement and twisted metal. She looked at them with her head tilted all the way back. “Hey, guys. Sorry for laying down on the job.”

“Very funny.” Natasha examined the debris that had Rory pinned.

“How are we supposed to free her?” Hill asked. “Even Iron Man couldn’t move this.”

Natasha flashed her a smile. She enjoyed a good challenge. “Stark may be a genius but there was one of him. There are two-“ she nodded to Rory “-actually three of us. We can figure something out.”

“If all else fails, “ Rory pointed out, “you could saw my leg off. It’ll grow back.”

Hill stared down at her, not even bothering to act horrified by the suggestion.

Rory shrugged. “Just a thought.”

Natasha crossed her arms. “We don’t have to move the debris. We only have to lift it enough for Rory to slide out. Didn’t somebody say once ‘Give me a lever and a place to stand and I can move the world’?”

Hill warmed up to the idea. “Archimedes said that. And it just might work.”

They searched the nearby corridors for metal rods that would work. Once they did, they returned to Rory. Hill slid her metal rod under the debris to the right of Rory’s leg. Natasha, to the left.

“Three, two, one-“ they pushed down with everything they had, their total combined weight and then some. The rubble shifted just enough and Rory pushed herself out from underneath it.

Natasha caught a glimpse of what remained of Rory’s leg and gagged. She’d seen a lot of gore working for the KGB and for S.H.I.E.L.D. but nothing like this, not up close. The misshapen mass that used to be a leg had become shards of bone piercing through black fabric, tangled muscle fibers interwoven with black, in a pool of blood. Before her eyes, the mass began to glow and reform. A normal leg clothed in fabric riddled with holes was all that was left, the only evidence of the whole ordeal.

Rory glanced up at her. “You okay?”

Not trusting herself to speak, Natasha only nodded.

“That was the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen,” Hill said.

“Hurt like hell too,” Rory retorted, getting to her feet.

“You good?” Natasha asked once she was confident throwing up wasn’t on the menu. When Rory assured her she was, Natasha led them from the corridor, explaining before Rory could even ask that Stark and Barnes were on their way to the north assembly area.

She was worried. The rendezvous point was on the opposite end of the base from where Clint was calling them to. She didn’t voice her concerns to either Hill or Rory. Hill probably already knew and Rory had a lot on her mind, judging by how quiet she was.

“Barnes, was he okay?” Rory asked.

“Stark didn’t indicate otherwise.” Natasha glanced at Rory, confused. “Why do you ask?”

“We found him in cryo,” Rory informed her, her voice low and dangerous. She looked straight ahead as they walked. “The cocktail of drugs in his system was specifically tailored for his genetics. They trapped him in his own mind.” 

“How did you pull him out of that?” Hill asked.

Rory shrugged. “I came prepared.” She turned to stare at Hill. “What can I say? I know how my brother’s mind works.”

“Your brother’s here?” Natasha added the information to what she had already gathered and updated the mission parameters in her mind. Dr. Callahan was a threat and needed to be eliminated, no matter his relation to Rory.

Based on the way Rory confirmed that he was here, or at least had been here recently, she wasn’t sure she should be worried. Seeing Barnes come out of cryo must have shaken the good scientist pretty badly.

“Did he get blood samples?” If Nathaniel had that, Natasha, reasoned, he had everything Hydra needed to create their army.

“There were several puncture marks on his arm when I took my sample so that would be a safe assumption.”

Hill looked across at Natasha. “If Barton can wait, we need to find him and stop him.”

They both looked to Rory. She tried to keep her face blank but worry and fear crinkled around her eyes. “I’ll help any way I can. You just-you can’t ask me to kill him. Or even to help you kill him. I don’t think I could do that.”

“I hope it won’t come to that,” Natasha hurried to assure her. She didn’t say that her ultimate goal was to kill him. That would put her in a bad place with Rory but when the safety of the world was at stake, she’d learned that sometimes sacrifices had to be made. This one she was willing to take on her shoulders. The red that would be added to her ledger, if it stopped Hydra, she could deal with.

Hill broke into her thoughts. “Do you know where he could be?” 

“There should be a lab somewhere in the facility but I haven’t seen it,” Rory answered.

Natasha pulled her PDA from her utility belt and opened the three dimensional map of the facility. She highlighted the routes they had explored. 

Rory stared at the same map, examining the rooms off of corridors they hadn’t explored. “This,” she said, pointing at a complex of rooms, “has more ventilation than the others. A genetics lab would have at least a biosafety level II hood for any bacterial work. That requires extra ventilation. That’s where he’d be.”

“You’re sure?”

Rory stepped back and squared her shoulders. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Hill removed her gun from its holster. “Let’s go get him.”

***

Natasha was impressed at the scale of Hydra’s lab. Though she didn’t know what a lot of the machinery did, she could tell from the brands they were state of the art. Only the best for people hell bent on taking over the world, she thought bitterly.

The three women wandered through the multi-room complex, guns drawn. Hill had even lent one to Rory for the occasion. When Natasha had pointed out, jokingly, the issues with giving a gun to someone who, to her knowledge, had never handled one, Rory replied without batting an eye that she’d been shooting since she was five.

A taunting voice interrupted her musings. “I should have known you’d show up.”

They looked up to see Nathaniel standing at the top of a flight of stairs. He leaned over the railing, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“You threw your lot in with some very predictable people, Ro,” he admonished, having eyes only for his sister.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she retorted.

“How is it not?” He motioned at Natasha and Hill. “How are they better than what Hydra can offer?”

“They don’t torture and brainwash people, for one.”

Nathaniel laughed. “You mean the asset? It’s not a person. It’s a weapon. Something for Hydra to shape and wield as we see fit.”

Natasha wasn’t sure who saw the most red at his statement. Rory started turning red, or orange—she was starting to burn. Extremis was feeding off her emotions.

“It?” she gritted out but in her state she couldn’t say much more.

Which was fine. Natasha had plenty to say to fill in the gap. “That’s a human being you’re talking about.”

Another barked out laugh. “It’s not human,” Nathaniel countered. “Not anymore. We’ve beat whatever humanity it had left out.”

Natasha was itching to shut the bastard up. The words coming out of his mouth were vile, poisonous. While she didn’t know Barnes well—hell, she barely knew him at all—she knew he meant a hell of a lot to Rogers and anyone Rogers was willing to die for had to be special. She could even overlook the attempt on her life outside Odessa. That hadn’t been Barnes. That had been Hydra. And she was in the process of paying them back in spades.

“He has a name, you know,” Hill told him. “It’s James Barnes.”

Nathaniel didn’t seem to care when he shrugged her off. “So what if it had a name? Names imply humanity and it doesn’t have any.”

“You keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you think it means,” Natasha snapped back. When Rory and Hill both looked at her incredulously, she shrugged. “What? I like movies.”

“I saw how it tried to strangle you, sis, when you freed it from cryo. That’s not the action of a human being, is it?” He was talking them round and around, trying to get them to admit something Natasha was sure none of them ever could.

Rory managed to laugh at that. She laughed in her brother’s face. “If I’d woken up from cryo to see a man dressed in a full metal suit and a woman with glowing eyes who could burn things with a touch standing over me, I’m pretty sure I’d react the same way.”

“We are a traveling circus,” Hill admitted.

Natasha hummed in agreement.

Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed. “I can see I’m not going to sway you.”

Rory shrugged. “Your sample sizes are small. Your standard deviations are high. Your conclusions mean nothing and you should feel bad.”

“Nice reference,” Natasha told her. 

“Enough!” Nathaniel screamed, his eyes glowing orange as his control over Extremis slipped. “If you won’t support Hydra’s cause, you’re collateral.” His hands too began to glow.

Natasha leveled her pistols at him, the movement almost instinctual.

He laughed in her face. “You think bullets will kill me?”

“Enough of them will.”

He leapt over the railing, intending to take them out in one hit. 

Rory pushed Natasha behind her and took the brunt of the attack. Nathaniel knocked her over and wrapped his hands around her throat.

“Your body can’t come back from oxygen deprivation,” he told her. “Extremis will try to repair the damage but in the end it won’t work.”

Natasha recovered and fired off two consecutive shots, one hitting his shoulder, the other piercing his stomach. 

He stumbled backward, letting Rory go. 

Rory clambered to her feet, the rapidly forming bruises on her neck fading as Extremis healed her.

Nathaniel was healing too but Hill had joined Natasha in their onslaught of bullets. He flinched as each projectile slammed into him, inflicting a little more damage, making Extremis work that much more. 

Rory moved next to Natasha and Hill. 

Through the pain and anger on Nathaniel’s face, Natasha saw a flash of hurt at the betrayal by his own flesh and blood. He’d expected his sister to share in his delusion but Rory was made of stronger stuff that he was. They had determined that after the attack on the Tower.

“Sorry, Nate. But I’ve seen how you want to shape the world, how you’ve treated people, how you’ve tortured a good man. I can’t be a part of that.” 

Collectively, they backed away from Nathaniel. They’d all seen the footage of what happened when Extremis was pushed to its invariable extreme and Nathaniel, under the barrage of bullets, was heading that way. Once they backed into the hallway, they sprinted as fast as they could, the lab exploding in heat and light radiating outward like a supernova. 

The force of the explosion knocked them to the ground but otherwise left them no worse for wear. No one commented on Rory taking a few minutes longer than necessary to pull herself up, the death of her brother weighing on her.

Natasha knew all too well the stillness that takes hold when a loved one is snatched away without so much as a by-your-leave. A mixture of shock and grief that left a person completely numb. She’d felt it before, several times too many. As she relayed to Clint that they were on their way, she kept a close eye on Rory to ensure that numbness didn’t negatively impact the mission. 

***

Unbeknownst to any of them, Tony had supplied Bucky with a comm so he didn’t have to keep repeating every single piece of pertinent information as it came in.

Bucky had heard their entire encounter with Nathaniel, had heard every defense Romanoff, Hill, and Rory had brought out.

He wasn’t sure how to react.

Tony told him to stop overthinking things, clearly amused but trying to be supportive at the same time. At least, that’s how Bucky interpreted it. He was finding it very hard to get a read on him.

Then the call came in from Barton that Steve had been shot.


	24. Chapter 24

Hearing those words, hearing “Captain’s been shot. Cap’s down,” yanked the rug out from under Bucky’s feet, set the world spinning. Nothing could have prepared him for the physical weight of them slamming into him. His legs lost all ability to hold him upright and he collapsed to the ground, Tony crashing to the ground as well.

He couldn’t breathe. Every breath he sucked in only got stuck in his throat, never reached his lungs. His muscles burned, screaming out in agony. Thoughts tried to coalesce but couldn’t find traction to form. His entire body was on fire.

Tony’s hands on his shoulders, hoisting him to his feet, felt distant, like the sensations were ghosts, ephemeral. There was such a disconnection as his brain shut down. All that was left was Pierce’s soft voice. “I told you this was how it would end.”

The reminder of the distance they had to travel to get to Steve was black. Bucky remembered none of it. There wasn’t a reason to. He walked like a man condemned.

He was by Steve’s side the minute he saw him, skidding across the ground. The metal tore into his knees. He couldn’t care.

The part of his mind still trying to function categorized Steve’s wounds clinically. Cuts, bruises, minor injuries, he discarded.

A large gaping hole gushing blood from Steve’s lower abdomen was the most serious. The gun shot. Already, he was pale from the blood loss. 

Bucky’s vision blurred with traitorous tears. Still, he worked with Barton, sitting opposite him, to try to stop the bleeding. 

Please God, he begged. Please don’t let him die. 

Steve’s chances were slim. Bucky had seen too many die from similar injuries during the war, long before Steve had joined him. He pushed those thoughts away even as Pierce continually pushed them forward.

He looked up at one point to find Barton had been replaced with Rory. Her face dirty and blank, she never once focused on him, her whole attention directed at Steve. The no nonsense way she searched for the offending artery, spouting blood up her arms, to pinch it off was beyond a normal person’s ability. She’d done this before. 

Yet nothing they did was doing a damn thing. They weren’t stopping the bleeding.

Steve was slowly slipping in and out of consciousness.

Rory looked over her shoulder. “Get Thor, now!” Someone scrambled to do that. Finally her eyes met Bucky’s. “Do what you can to keep him awake, okay?” Her voice shook and broke.

The others, everyone he recognized, stood helplessly outside his field of vision but he knew they were there. Captain America was a symbol of hope, of freedom. Steve Rogers, a friend. The possibility of losing him was too much. For any of them. 

Don’t take him from me, he thought, over and over. I’ll do whatever I gotta do to pay for the deaths on my hands if he just doesn’t die.

His hands bloody, dripping blood across Steve’s chest, he clutched Steve’s face. “Steve! Stay with me,” he pleaded.

Steve’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled weakly. “Bucky…”

Bucky smiled through the tears streaming down his face. He didn’t care. They didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered, the only person that mattered, was fading with every heartbeat. “Yeah, it’s me,” he told him, feeling Steve sag in relief at the realization he was alive. “You gotta stay awake, ya hear?”

Steve slipped, his eyes closing.

Bucky shook him, gently but so, so desperately. “You hear?!”

“Yeah…I hear,” Steve replied, barely louder than a whisper.

“You gotta stay with me,” Bucky repeated. “Don’t you dare leave me now. Don’t- you can’t-promise me.”

Steve only smiled, a smile bordering on peaceful. “I don’t…think I can…promise that.” 

The smile triggered a flashback to the helicarrier, to how peaceful Steve looked even as Bucky pummeled the life out of him.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, Bucky thought through the haze wrapping its arms around him. He was supposed to save Steve, the way he always had. “You can do whatever you set your mind to. Remember? Like I always said when we were kids.”

That smile never faded. “I think…I have. Always…wanted…to be like…you.” Steve reached up but didn’t have the strength to lift his arm far.

Bucky grabbed his hand and leaned into it. Sobs wracked his body as his eyes squeezed shut. “God damn it, you don’t get to say shit like that. Not now.”

Steve chuckled but it came out as a wet cough. “Just…have bad timing.”

His life was draining out of him and there was nothing Bucky could do to stop it. 

He’d never felt so helpless. He’d never felt so guilty.

“Aurora,” an unfamiliar voice spoke. 

Bucky quickly glanced away from Steve and felt some trace of surprise at the man who belonged to the voice. He vaguely remembered seeing images of him in New York, fighting alongside Steve.

Rory couldn’t spare a glance. Stray strands of hair curled into her face, some soaked with sweat and sticking against the skin. “You got the gist of what’s going on?” she asked thinly.

“Yes, I do,” he answered simply.

“Can you help?” 

“My father knows the Captain helped stop Loki’s schemes when he came to Midgard two years ago. He is highly regarded among my people. They are willing to offer assistance.”

Bucky’s brain was operating slowly but Rory’s face fell so slack that even he knew she hadn’t been expecting that response.

“It may not be within Eir’s power to heal him, though,” Thor told them quietly.

“Better chance than he’s got here. I can’t stop all the bleeding.” Exhaustion seeped into her voice.

Thor considered them for the briefest of moments. 

Bucky bit back a scream of frustration. Any time it took him to consider anything was time working against Steve’s survival. 

“You will need to come with me,” Thor said.

That didn’t seem to include Bucky. It wasn’t directed at him. But he couldn’t leave Steve. Not now.

Steve understood his intention somehow. His hand slipped from Bucky’s grasp and gripped his arm tightly. “You…gotta stay…Buck. They’re gonna…need you.”

Bucky couldn’t. He just couldn’t. “Don’t ask me to do that. Please.”

“Hydra’s soldiers are…still out there,” Steve pointed out. “The others…don’t let them down.”

“I can’t just leave you!” he protested. “What if you-?” He came up short, unable to voice the rest of the thought. “I love you,” he finished wretchedly.

Rory’s voice cut into the conversation, both urgent and reluctant at the same time. “Bucky, we gotta go.”

The last thing Steve said before Thor called for Heimdall, whoever—whatever—that was, was “I believe in you.”

Something inside Bucky shattered into thousands of pieces. Hands, who they belonged to Bucky had no idea, helped move him away from the trio. He had no strength, no will, to move on his own.

A bright beam of light and energy shot to the ground, encompassing Steve, Rory, and Thor. The beam vanished and they with it. Only an intricate rune pattern, smoldering and smoking, remained.

Bucky felt nothing. He was filthy, he knew, covered in dirt and grime and blood. Steve’s blood.

Pierce’s voice, never silent, murmured, “He’s going to die and you won’t be there. Imagine the guilt you’ll feel because you know this was all your fault.”

Steve’s voice wasn’t there anymore to keep Pierce at bay. The more Pierce whispered guilt and despair, the more Bucky curled in on himself.

A pair of hands gripped his shoulders. He flinched away only to realize it was Sam crouching in front of him.

His own numbness was staring back at him through Sam’s eyes. “It’s just me, man.”

“Sam?”

Steve’s friend gave him a tired smile. “They couldn’t keep you down long, could they? Good to see you’re still with us.”

“I wish they had,” Bucky mumbled. “He’s gonna die and it’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not, “ Sam told him sternly. “You didn’t kidnap him. You didn’t lock him up. You certainly didn’t shoot him. Whatever happens now, it is not your fault. Do you understand me?”

Bucky didn’t reply. He heard the words but he couldn’t comprehend them.

Sam forced him to look him in the eyes. “You gotta hang on to that, okay?”

Natasha walked up behind Sam. “We should leave, Sam. Rhodey’s gone to get transport. Clint found some pretty bad shit on their computers.” She crouched beside him, looking at Bucky. “Come on, soldier,” she told him. “Let’s get you to the plane.”

Between the two of them, Sam and Natasha, they practically carried Bucky to the runway. They led him up the stairs and helped him into a seat, buckling him in.

Although Bucky couldn’t focus, his gaze stuck somewhere in the middle distance, he saw Hill and Barton board the plane and slip into the cockpit. Tony limped past him, Banner supporting his weight. Tony clapped a hand on his left shoulder. Bucky lacked the energy to flinch away.

Another man in a suit similar to Tony’s clanked past him with four others Bucky didn’t recognize in tow. They were in garb similar to Thor so he had to assume they were from the same place. The woman took the seat across a small table from him.

Even though Bucky had interacted with Natasha, Sam, and even Tony to some extent, as the plane powered up and hurtled down the runway, he felt completely alone. Without Steve by his side, he had no one. How had Steve survived a day like this?

“You are suffering. You should not do so alone,” the woman cut into his thoughts.

Her words barely filtered in through the fog that descended over him. A hollow pit had formed in his chest, spreading emptiness down to his fingers.

“You greatly care for the Captain, do you not?” the woman asked him.

He didn’t bother looking at her or answering her.

“Waiting for information, if a person will live or die, is the worst experience out of them all,” she continued, unfazed by his reticence.

“How would you know?” he muttered.

She drew herself up regally. “I am the Lady Sif, a warrior of Asgard. I have seen more battles than the years you have lived and have lost more soldiers and loved ones than that besides.”

“So what?”

“Because I have been where you are. You are not alone, James Barnes. You will feel as if you are but I can assure you, you are not.” 

“That’s a lie,” Pierce whispered. “With Steve dead, no one in this world cares about you. They did not come to rescue you. You are nothing.”

He must have said a lot of that out loud because Sif stared at him incredulously.

“You could not be more mistaken,” she countered, anger coloring her voice. “They fought hard to save you. You should not belittle their efforts.”

Bucky rolled forward and groaned into his hands. “Stop. Just stop.”

“You think I am wrong?” she queried, utterly confused. She took his silence as permission to continue. “The man of iron and his companion fought valiantly today for you. Not for the Captain. When she and the agents faced the man who betrayed them, who tortured you, they stood up for you.” She gazed at him intently. “Do not give credence to the voice that says you are unworthy.”

Bucky had had enough. Since they had reached cruising altitude, he could wander freely through the cabin. He unbuckled the seatbelt and shifted to stand up.

Her hand caught him and held him firmly. “I heard what was said before Thor took the Captain across the Bifrost. I would think those words, coming from him, would keep your doubts at bay.”

He didn’t say that it was because they came from him that they didn’t. Steve always was the better of them. Even when he had to save the scrawny kid from fights, fights he’d been dumb enough to pick, he respected him. He looked up to him. Never once had it occurred to him that the reverse could be true, that Steve could look up to him. Not that it mattered now. He wasn’t the person anyone could look up to anymore. He wasn’t the person anyone could believe in, least of all Steve.

The sharp lines of Sif’s face softened as comprehension dawned on her. “You cannot believe him,” she realized. “Part of you desires to but you ultimately cannot.” She clasped both of his hands in hers. “There is much darkness in your past. Even without Heimdall, still I can see it. You believe that alone defines you and no words from me will change that. But I see in you a good heart. And I am not alone.” She offered him a small smile. “If you wish, I will hold a vigil with you, one warrior to another.”

Bucky didn’t want to be alone. Not after everything that had happened. He said nothing to Sif’s offer but she remained in her seat, waving off her companions when they called for her. She kept her hands over his, letting them rest against the table. For the rest of the flight, they sat in silence, each left to their own thoughts, but Bucky knew he wasn’t alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to everyone for reading and liking and commenting. Y'all are the greatest!


	25. Chapter 25

Sam wasn’t in a talkative mood for much of the flight either. He stared out the tiny window, worrying about Steve, worrying about Bucky. More Bucky than Steve. He’d seen Steve pull through worse and with Asgard’s advanced medical capabilities, Sam knew Steve was in the best of hands.

Bucky was a different story entirely. Catatonic was the nicest way Sam could describe Bucky’s state after Thor took Steve. Even Sif couldn’t pull him out. She hadn’t left him alone and for that, Sam was immensely grateful. Natasha was flitting in and out of the cockpit, discussing things with Barton and Hill, so she couldn’t have helped Bucky. Not that she was the best choice out of all of them. She and Steve had their connection but that would in no way help Bucky. Natasha wasn’t the huggy-feely type. 

Sam wasn’t sure even he could help Bucky, much as he wanted to. For Bucky’s sake and for Steve’s. It was hard enough reliving the same trauma as when Riley got his ass blown up without having to deal with someone else’s trauma on top of that. Because if by some horrible twist of fate Steve died—well, Sam wasn’t sure he could handle that blow.

He replayed the moments leading up to Steve getting shot and wondered how he could have prevented it, why he didn’t see it coming. After he and Colonel Rhodes took out Hydra’s various communications arrays and stopped more than one convoy from equipping the soldiers in the base with even deadlier weapons, they joined Thor in taking out any and every piece of Hydra equipment they could find. Anything to give them an edge in the fight.

The relief had been a tangible thing when Natasha called out over the comm that they’d found Steve alive and well; he’d been pissed as anything. Sam hadn’t blamed him. If what happened to Bucky was half as bad as what Sam imagined, they were going to have problems because Steve would rip anything related to Hydra into tiny pieces.

And that was exactly what Steve did. As a tactic, it worked great. Until they met Crossbones. 

Sam recognized him the moment he saw him. Something about the way he held himself screamed Rumlow. He thought that bastard had died under the mountain of rubble that remained of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters. Seeing him alive was a punch to the gut.

They had no choice but to fight him. Him and over a few hundred of his cronies. The fighting left them splintered, each struggling against several heavily armed men alone or in pairs.

The gunshot came out of nowhere. Sam saw Steve crumble and he saw Crossbones slide his gun into its holster. Oh, how he wanted to wipe that smugness right off the bastard’s face but he couldn’t reach him before he vanished into the shadows.

It was Hulk who landed them the final blow, Hulk who had also seen Steve go down, Hulk who roared in rage and tore through about thirty soldiers as if they were paper. Sam hadn’t really had an opportunity to see up close just how violent the Hulk was and it floored him that he reacted that strongly to Steve being shot.

By the time Tony and Bucky arrived, there was no one left to fight. Rory, Hill, and Natasha arrived a few moments later and despite all they’re best efforts, Steve was still bleeding out.

It was just like watching Riley fall from the sky.

Sam shook himself, pulling away from the memory. He glanced around at everyone on the plane, how battered and exhausted they looked. They’d gutted the base, destroying anything of value and still it was a hollow victory.

He slept fitfully during part of the nine hour flight. When the plane arrived in New York, he was just as exhausted as when they left Kiev. They piled into a caravan of cars that Pepper had provided for them, Hill, Barton, and Natasha offering to drive.

Rory was waiting for them at Avengers Tower. 

***

Bucky blanked when he saw Rory sitting on the sofa in Tony’s suite. The others quickly left to unload the luggage. They were giving Bucky space if it was needed. 

Pepper was sitting next to Rory, gently carding her fingers through Rory’s hair. Used, balled up tissues littered the coffee table. Rory had one in her hand, her face red and puffy from crying.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered. “Why are you back?”

There were two scenarios that he knew of where she returned from Asgard and her in tears pointed to one that Bucky couldn’t give a name to.

Her eyes widened. She scrambled to sit up. “Oh, no, this isn’t what it- shit- Cap pulled through. He’s not-no-oh, fuck, I’m sorry.” She buried her face in her hands.

Bucky tried to make sense of her ramblings. “Steve’s alive?”

She nodded vigorously, wiping her eyes. “Still unconscious when I left and it was touch and go there for a while but I didn’t leave until he was in the clear.” She sniffed and blew her nose. “Thor sent me back. I think his exact words were ‘You are dead on your feet. Get some rest.’” She considered what she’d said, her brow furrowing. “Or something like that. I was kinda tired.”

“For good reason,” Pepper assured her.

She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” She looked to Bucky. “But not ‘cuz of Steve. He’s gonna be fine.” Running a hand through her hair, she chuckled, something bordering on hysteria. It wasn’t the nicest sound. “I did not mean to scare you like that. I am so sorry.”

Bucky collapsed into a lounge chair. He exhaled and tried to slow his heartbeat to a normal speed. “I thought-“ He’d thought Steve was dead. He’d thought he’d lost the one anchor he had left to keep Hydra at bay. Pierce’s voice, which had been his constant companion during their flight home, had nothing to say, no evil whispers, that could dampen the relief washing over him.

“I know, I know.” She made a noise, a half-scream, out of frustration. ‘Just-try not to have a heart attack on us, yeah?”

Bucky had to hold back the giddy laughter building in the back of his throat.

He paused.

If Rory wasn’t crying over Steve…what was she so upset about? 

He opened his mouth to ask her but stopped before he said anything. She was tidying up, hiding any and all trace of what had transpired before he got there. He caught the worry on Pepper’s face as Rory disappeared from the sitting room.

“What happened?” he asked, thoroughly confused.

Pepper glanced from him to the door Rory had left from. “I’m not sure I should be the one to tell you,” she confessed.

“It was my brother,” Rory informed him, standing in the doorway., her voice monotone. “He betrayed us to Hydra then tried to kill us. I think you have a right to know.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “He died trying to stop us.”

“He died?” Bucky repeated. He had trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that it was Nathaniel that betrayed them to Hydra even though he’d heard the man’s voice over the comm. Nathaniel and Rory had seemed as thick as thieves. His death hit her hard.

“Extremis is a rapid regeneration system but even it has its limits. We hit his.” The way she was standing made her look incredibly young.

“Before you got to Steve?”

She nodded.

Bucky rose from his chair. “I’m sorry. I owe you one.”

She waved him off. “You don’t owe me anything, okay?”

“Yes, I do. I don’t think Steve would have survived without your help.” He reached out his hand.

She shook it. “I saved you too so…I think that’s two you owe me,” she managed to tease.

“Okay guys, I need everyone in the conference room in five. Things have gotten serious,” Hill called out over the intercom.

Like they weren’t already.

Bucky glanced to Rory then to Pepper. “What did I miss?”

Rory looked grim. “A lot.” 

***

A lot didn’t even begin to cover it. As everyone in the room momentarily collapsed in relief at the news Steve was going to be ok—Sam and Natasha most of all, Bucky examined the data they’d retrieved from the Hydra base, and he admitted their chances looked slim. Granted, that wasn’t a change from before but staring at how screwed they were was a tad bit discouraging.

“What does this mean?” he asked the room in general.

“It means we may not be able to defeat them,” Sam replied. “Not if they already have an army of this size.”

“We fought an army of aliens flying out of a portal in the sky,” Banner pointed out. “At least these guys are human.”

Bucky crossed his arms. “How human they are might be debatable, Doctor.” 

Banner pursed his lips but said nothing.

Tony limped up to the table. “Based on what Legolas here found, Hydra means to attack DC. Soon.”

“With Cap not here, we’re shit out of luck. He had the most experience with Hydra out of all of us,” Hill lamented.

Sam glanced at Bucky curiously but Bucky didn’t speak up to correct her.

“We need a plan of attack,” Natasha determined, looking to either Sam or the other Iron Man. Bucky didn’t know his name.

The other Iron Man shook his head. “I won’t be much help. Pentagon’s gonna want to hear about Kiev.”

“You’re letting me down, Rhodey,” Tony whined.

Rhodey. That was a name for him at least. There were days Bucky felt lost amid all these people. He glanced over at Sif’s companions and he realized he didn’t know their names either.

“Barnes,” Pepper leaned toward him, “what about you?”

He glanced down at her. “What about me?” he whispered back.

“You know Hydra probably better than any of us, Steve included. You should lead us.” She said it so casually, as if it were the simplest suggestion.

But Bucky physically flinched from her words. “I can’t do that.” 

“Why not?” Pepper asked.

“I’m not a leader. I’m not Steve.”

He glanced up to find Rory staring at him quizzically. She slipped silently from the room as the debate raged on.

She returned a few minutes later, breathing heavily and carrying Steve’s shield. The room fell silent as she approached Bucky. “Steve, uh, he told me to give this to you.” She held the shield out for him to take. “Before they took him into what the Asgardian equivalent of surgery is.”

“It’s still surgery,” the blond Asgardian replied.

Bucky stared dumbly at her. “I can’t take that,” he protested. He’d only held the shield three times in his life, two of which were as Hydra’s weapon. It was Steve’s weapon, not his.

She gave him a lopsided grin. “Yeah, he figured you’d say that. So he wanted me to tell you-“ she paused and thought about it, her head bobbing slightly as she got the words in order. “He said he wanted you to use it to protect yourself since he wasn’t going to be here.”

He reached for the shield, wrapping his fingers around the edges. He almost wished he could take it, could wield it like Steve could, could be the hero Steve was. But he wasn’t and he never could be. He let his hand fall to his side and he fled the room, ignoring the confusion and hurt he left behind him.

***

Banner found him sitting out on the balcony a short time later. “What the hell was that?” he demanded.

Bucky stared across the city. “What the hell was what?” he replied despite knowing exactly what the doctor was referring to.

“You bailing on Rory like that. Why’d you do it?”

Bucky pressed him lips into a thin line.

Banner sucked in a breath. “Are you scared? Is that it? Scared you can’t live up to everything Cap’s done?”

“What do you want me to say, Doc?” he drawled. “That you’re right? It wouldn’t buy ya nothin’.”

Banner crouched in front of him. “I want you to own up to what’s actually bothering you. We need you, Barnes, whether you can see it or not. We’ve lost Cap, Thor, and Rhodey’s touch and go. Most of the rest of us don’t give orders, we follow them. Some of us only follow a few, very select, people. It took Loki’s army to convince me—well, to convince the Other Guy—following Cap was a good idea.” He paused for breath and looked Bucky dead in the eye. “And I had my doubts about you, I’ll admit it. When you first got here, I couldn’t separate you from Hydra’s weapon. I was afraid of what you could do, of what the Other Guy would do in response.”

Bucky scoffed. “Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

Banner shook his head. “I’m not done. Only reason I told you that was so you understand me when I say I was wrong.”

Bucky hadn’t expected him to say that. He stared at him incredulously.

Banner continued, “I was wrong about you.” He got back on his feet. “We need a leader, Barnes. You might not think you’re up to the task but I know a roomful of people who would argue otherwise.”

Bucky stood and said, “Sorry, I’m not the man for the job.” He walked back inside. 

“Steve believed you were,” Banner called out after him.

He froze, his hand hovering above the door handle.

“You want to wipe your ledger clean? This is a good place to start.”

When Bucky returned to the conference room and apologized to Rory, she handed him the shield. 

He squared his shoulders and looked around the room. He’d come to expect people to see him as a monster but these that Steve called friends, they treated him like a human being. Maybe realizing that was all he needed in the end. “Okay, what have we got?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another chapter. Thanks everyone for reading!


	26. Chapter 26

Crossbones looked over the Potomac. The platoon leader walked up beside him. “We’re in position, sir.” 

“Good. Hold your positions until I give the signal. We can’t have our plan unfold until our guests of honor arrive.”

The leader’s brow furrowed. “Guests, sir?”

Crossbones grinned. “Of course. It wouldn’t be a show without the deaths of our protagonists, would it?”

He’d failed to kill the asset before. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

***

Bruce strode behind Barnes across the National Mall. “So what is it you want me to do exactly?” he asked.

With the shield slung across his back, Barnes seemed more like what Bruce assumed he was like before the war. The man was a natural leader and Bruce surprisingly trusted him. He just hoped that trust would carry over to the Other Guy.

Barnes spoke but didn’t break his stride. “Honestly? Just keep close and fuck as many assholes’ days up as you can.”

Bruce smiled. “I think I can manage that,” he assured Barnes.

Barnes stopped in his tracks and turned to him. “I never did thank you for what you said before.”

Bruce shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. You watch any of the footage Stark has on me?” When Barnes said no, he continued, “You should sometime. I think it’ll put things in perspective.”

“Why’d you say it?”

Bruce considered it for a moment. When it boiled down to it – “Because somebody pointed the same thing out to me. It helped.” He raised an eyebrow. “Although, considering that someone usually does something to, uh, bring out the Other Guy about every other day or so, there are days I reconsider my living arrangements.”

“Wait, Tony?” 

Barnes sounded so confused that Bruce laughed. “Tony,” he confirmed. “There are quite a few videos up online if you wanna see them. Even I have to admit, watching the Other Guy beat the crap of him never gets old.”

“We’re in position,” Pepper said through the comm, bringing them back to the moment.

“Same,” Clint added.

“Strike teams in position,” came in from Hill.

All bantering aside, Bruce looked at Barnes. “You think they’ll come to us?”

Barnes replied, completely deadpan, “Hydra wants me dead. They’ll come.”

True to form, Hydra did not disappoint, nor did it keep them waiting. Two gunshots rang out. Bruce shoved Barnes out of the way, letting the bullets hit him instead. Hydra wanted a fight, wanted to kill Barnes.

Bruce was going to have something to say about that.

As he purposefully let the Hulk off his leash, the monster decided he had something to say about it as well.

***

Bucky hit the ground hard. Bruce shoved him with an inhuman strength, taking the bullets he knew were meant for him. The transformation from human to Hulk was unlike anything Bucky had ever seen and he’d seen quite a lot in his life. Hulk stood between Bucky and the shooter, or shooters—Bucky didn’t know, and roared.

Civilians fled in all directions as bullets ricocheted across the Mall. Some fled inside the buildings. Some fled the Mall entirely, which Bucky thought was the more logical option.

He almost stumbled backward when Hulk turned toward him but something in his eyes stopped him. Hulk merely grunted, apparently satisfied that no harm had come to Bucky.

“We’ve got contact. Northeast corner,” Rory called out. “Look’s like they’re going for the Capitol.”

Bucky almost replied they were on their way when he heard gunfire coming from the Air and Space Museum. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go down that memory lane but people were screaming. Children were screaming.

“They got soldiers attacking civilians down here. Can you handle it?” he asked her.

She grunted and the thud of a blow landing echoed in his ear. “Yeah, I’m good for now. Hawk’s heading my way.”

“Thanks, Rory.” He was already breaking into a jog toward the museum, Hulk lumbering along beside him.

Another grunt. “No problemo, Cap,” she replied, slightly out of breath.

I’m not the captain, he thought, skidding to a halt outside the museum doors.

“Look, you’re in charge, right?” she asked, as if she’d read his mind. “Assuming you didn’t mean to say that?”

He groaned. Saying things out loud that he didn’t need to say really had to stop. He answered yes, to one or both questions—it didn’t really matter.

“Then you’re Cap. Simple as that.”

Sam’s voice cut in with what sounded like an agreement but the communication garbled and Bucky couldn’t catch part of it. When the line cleared, they were in a full discussion about being a “dumb ho,” whatever that meant.

Rory barked out a laugh at something Sam had said, which morphed into a swing of swears mixed with scientific jargon Bucky had no hope of understanding. 

Not that he’d been doing much better with the witty repartee between her and Sam. He’d wondered more than once at the strangeness of the world he’d woken to.

With her thoroughly distracted with whatever Hydra soldier she was fighting, Bucky slung the shield onto his right arm, leaving his left arm free to wreak havoc though he wouldn’t use it unless he had to.

He motioned for Hulk to stay put for the time being.

Several soldiers shot at him the minute he stepped foot inside the museum. He threw the shield up to cover his head and torso. The bullets slammed into the shield, the impacts ringing loudly in Bucky’s ears. He expected the force of bullets hitting the shield to force him back but the shield absorbed the vibrations. He was free to inch forward against the onslaught.

He needed to take these soldiers out. In the back of his mind, the training Hydra had instilled into him was begging to be used and for once, he heeded it. Stopping and listening, he calculated the positions of the soldiers from the sounds of the guns being fired. Using the shield to bounce the bullets back, he took out a soldier at a time until the shooting stopped. 

He risked a peak around the side of the shield. Once he saw his path was clear, he stood and looked around more fully.

Hulk peeked in through the glass. 

Bucky gave him a thumbs up. With Hulk appeased, he ran to one of the soldiers. The man was armed to the teeth, a vast array of weapons that Bucky shuddered to see because he knew how to use every single one of them. Selecting a gun with a large amount of firepower, he searched for civilians.

Two museum guards were huddled together underneath the reception desk. Bucky froze, recognizing one of them from the last time he’d been here. 

The guard recognized him too. He glanced from the shield up to Bucky’s face down to his metal arm, a smile forming slowly. “’Bout time you guys showed up,” he groused, letting Bucky help him and his coworker to their feet. “Bastards been shooting up my museum.”

“Not sure I’ve been much help there, sir,” Bucky replied. The entrance hall of the museum was riddled with bullet holes and dead bodies.

“Any help’s better than none at all,” the guard told him, completely serious. He glanced once more at the shield. “You the Captain now, son?”

Bucky gripped the strap on the back of the shield. “It’s just temporary.”

The man gave him a knowing look. 

Since it wasn’t a conversation Bucky wanted to have, he asked the guard, “Is there a way to get people out of here? Not-?” he nodded toward the front doors where Hulk kept his vigil.

“There are a couple of back exits plus the entrance to Independence Avenue,” the other guard informed him.

Back exits. Other entrances. That would keep people off the Mall. “Can you help me clear the building and get anyone in here to safety?”

They both said yes.

Bucky went first, shield raised. He checked out every room, the guards right behind him. They found a group of people hidden in the exhibit documenting man’s first attempts at flight. The faces that stuck with Bucky the most were the children’s. They stared up at him, wide eyed, and they did whatever he asked them to. He let the guard he didn’t recognize lead them to safety.

The bottom floor was clear.

“There’s probably a group up in the Captain America exhibit,” his remaining companion told him. “Kids love it.”

Bucky steeled himself for the onslaught of memories that came with the exhibit, the video clip of him and Steve laughing at some dumb prank Gabe and Frenchie pulled especially. He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed so unreservedly. Steve either, for that matter.

His heart sank at the thought.

“Mr. Barnes?” a young voice asked. It was the same girl he’d met the first time he’d come to the museum, the girl who stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. She turned to her mother. “See, mama, I told you.”

The mother gave her daughter a thin smile. “What’s going on?” she asked him.

“Hydra’s attacking the Mall,” he told her. In his mind, there was no sense in lying to her.

“Hydra? Hydra’s a myth, something the government concocted to cover up what happened in the Potomac,” the mother sneered.

Bucky struggled not to roll his eyes. “I can assure you, they’re very real.” 

The building rocked.

Bucky looked behind him. Hydra was firing off grenades into the building. They were running out of time. “If you don’t believe me, listen to that,” he said. “Come on, we gotta get outta here.” 

The guard led them down to the first floor, to the exit. They fled the building single file. 

He realized the girl wasn’t with her mother. When her mother noticed her absence, her face contorted in panic. She called out desperately, “Hannah! Where are you?”

Bucky grabbed her by the shoulders. “Go with the guard. I’ll go get her.”

She wasn’t having it but the guard held onto her and dragged her, kicking and screaming from the museum.

Bucky threw the shield over his head to block falling debris as he darted inside. Hydra had upgraded from grenades to something with a little more punch. Typical.

He called out for the girl, Hannah, over the increasing noise, as he retraced their steps. After only a few minutes of terse searching, which stretched out the longer he couldn’t find her, he heard her call out for him.

“Mr. Barnes!”

She was tucked behind stair railing.

He crouched in front of her, slinging the shield across his back. “Hey. Thought we’d lost you.” He looked her over, searching for obvious injuries. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Just scared, huh?”

A nod.

“If you’ll come with me, I’ll get ya outta here,” he promised, reaching out for her.

His words worked like a charm. She hesitantly stood and walked toward him. As he scooped her up, she slung her arms around his neck. 

Bucky ran for the exit, the building crumpling around them.

The exit exploded in front of them, shards of glass and metal flying through the air. He twisted so any shrapnel hit him, not Hannah. Pain shot down his back and he felt blood trickle down from the wounds. The doors were demolished. Nothing but rubble remained. They couldn’t get out that way.

“There’s a way out in the food court,” Hannah mumbled, clutching him tightly.

Good enough.

Bucky ran as fast as he could, leaping over rubble and debris, broken pieces of airplanes and spaceships.

“Cap, where are you?” Sam called in.

“Easternmost wing of Air and Space. Food court. We’re getting hammered in here.” He really wanted them to stop calling him “Cap” but it wasn’t exactly the time to have that argument.

“Sif and Fandral are closest to your position,” Sam informed him. “Hang tight. They’re coming.”

Bucky didn’t tell Sam that they were running out of time. They had no exits that he could see. Anything that could have been an exit was rubble. Nor did the building stop collapsing above their heads. From Bucky’s position, he had one option and it wasn’t a good one.

He set Hannah down by a wall as close to the outside as he could get. Wrapping himself around her, using his arm and the shield for cover, he protected her as the building’s structural integrity gave way.

Hannah’s terrified screams were barely louder than the roar of the collapsing concrete and steel. In seconds, they were trapped under tons of debris, breathing in dust in the pitch darkness.


	27. Chapter 27

“Bucky! Bucky! Come on, man, answer me!” Sam’s frantic voice pulled him back to consciousness.

He couldn’t see anything, or hear anything aside from Sam and Hannah’s rapid breathing. He tried to shift but the rubble had him jammed in tightly. “We’re okay,” he replied, coughing as he inhaled dust. He nudged Hannah with his free hand. “Hannah? Are you okay?”

“I think so.” Her voice sounded so small but in the confines of the rubble, it echoed loudly.

He exhaled. His own safety didn’t matter as much as long as he had her to watch out for.

“Mr. Barnes, I can’t move,” she whispered.

There was a pretty good reason. Several tons of debris were trying to crush them with only a metal prosthetic and a vibranium shield standing in the way. “I can’t either. But help’s on the way.” Help better be on the way, he thought. “Don’t talk too much. We have to conserve the air.”

“James,” Sif called out. “Fandral and I are above you. We’re working to get you out.”

A roar accompanied her words.

“The green monster seems to be cross with you,” she added wryly.

Bucky laughed and regretted it after. He was curled up with shrapnel digging into his back. Laughing was not a painless experience.

“You’re hurt!” Hannah accused him.

It wasn’t an inaccurate statement but Bucky had enough of a filter between his brain and his mouth that he didn’t tell her this was nothing compared to some of the things he’d lived through.

She tilted her head back against his chest and examined his metal arm with her small hand. “You didn’t have this last time,” she stated.

Bucky gazed at his arm, or rather, he looked in its general direction. He couldn’t see it but he felt the pressure of her hand running up and down the surface. “I did,” he corrected gently. “You just didn’t see it.”

“Why’d you hide it?” Nothing in her tone of voice was accusatory. She understood that it had bothered him and was simply curious as to why.

He sighed. “It’s a reminder of a pretty bad part of my life.”

“Oh.” Her eyes opened wide. “You mean after you fell from the train?”

Bucky stared at her blankly. “What makes you say that?”

“You were with Steve before that and you got lost,” she replied simply. “That made it bad, didn’t it? Because you couldn’t go home.”

He bit back a startled laugh. Hannah missed a few of the finer details but in the end…her assessment was spot on.

“You’re not hiding it now though.”

No, he wasn’t. In fact, he had a grudging respect for the thing that his arm had become because right now, it and the shield were the only things saving him and Hannah from being crushed.

It hurt like a motherfucker though. The metal plates were locked and the strain was ever so slowly forcing the arm downward. If they weren’t rescued soon, his arm would break and they’d be pancake batter. Or pancakes.

“Hold on, James. We’re almost to you,” Sif told him.

“Hurry.” I can’t hold this much longer, he thought, not wanting to say that out loud for Hannah’s sake.

The chunks of cement above them were ripped away, exposing Bucky and Hannah to blinding sunlight. Sif, her armor glistening, stood above them. Hulk stood to one side, his face scowling.

Bucky groaned and let his arm down. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the change in brightness. 

Hulk roared. 

Hannah startled and Bucky wrapped the arm he could move around her instinctively. “Is that the Hulk?” she whispered.

Bucky twisted in the hole they’d been trapped in and helped her to her feet. “Don’t worry,” he told her. “He’s a friend.”

Hulk bent over and roared again, right in Bucky’s face. “Bucky dumb,” he growled.

Bucky glared up at him. “Yeah, I didn’t expect them to blow the place. Sue me.”

Sam landed a few feet further up the rubble. “You alright, man?” 

Bucky nodded. His arm hurt, his head hurt, and his back hurt to the point every movement he made was a miserable experience. But otherwise, he was perfectly fine. “Can you take Hannah back to her mother?”

“Sure thing.”

Hannah latched onto Bucky’s arm. ‘I wanna stay with you.”

He crouched in front of her. “You can’t. It’s not safe for you here. Go with Sam. And behave for him and your mother. Can you do that for me?”

She released him reluctantly. He watched her grab a hold of Sam and the both of them disappear across what remained of the Air and Space Museum.

He jumped when Sif laid a hand on his shoulder. “Her mother will be grateful you saved her.”

The blond Asgardian appeared to Sif’s left. Bucky assumed he was Fandral. “You do seem to have a way with kids.”

Tony called to them from the ground. “While this is all very touching, we have a situation up at the Capitol. Seems Hydra had more men that we thought.”

Bucky climbed down from the rubble. “How many?”

“Thousands,” Rory answered, her voice barely above a whisper. “There are thousands of them.”

“Are the civilians clear from the surrounding buildings?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Fandral replied with a crisp salute.

“What about from the Capitol building itself?”

“There are still people in there, Cap,” Rory replied. “Congressmen, aides, the whole kit and kaboodle.”

“Clear them out.”

“I can’t, Cap. There are more than a few soldiers blocking my path.”

Tony glanced over at him. “I think there was some special session going on today. And with the explosions, they’d have the building in lockdown.”

“So we have to clear the soldiers before we can rescue anybody?” Bucky asked, suddenly feeling very tired. He was done fighting, done with the violence and the wars, done putting his life on the line for people who didn’t give two shits about him. But these people who were still willing looked to him to lead them. He wouldn’t let them down.

Once Sam returned, he led the group toward the Capitol. Rory motioned to the green space in front of the Capitol building.

“Oh, shit.” 

Bucky had to agree with Tony’s assessment. Rory hadn’t lied. There were thousands of black-garbed, heavily armed soldiers standing at attention between them and the Capitol.

“So what do we do?” Pepper asked.

“Taking them head-on is suicidal,” Bucky informed them. “So we’ll go at them from the sides and from the air. See if we can split them off into more manageable groups.” He turned to Sam and Tony. “We’re gonna need air support desperately. Give me what you can.”

Rory stepped forward. “I can help there. Tony added a couple of shiny new features to my gear.” She checked around her, for clearance it looked like, and extended wings from either side of her suit. “Can’t fly per se but I can glide like a pro.”

Now Bucky really had seen it all. “Fine, you’ll go with Sam. Can you handle a gun?”

Rory glanced at Natasha. When Bucky turned to Natasha for an explanation, she merely smiled. “Don’t question her and guns. Just give her one and let her go to work.”

He handed her the one he took from the soldier at the museum. “Try not to miss.”

“You try not to miss,” she snapped back, retracting her wings. “Give me a lift, Sam.” As Sam lifted her off the ground, she flashed a grin at Bucky, letting him know she wasn’t really mad at him.

“Natasha, you and Hill try to get to the roof of that building there.” He pointed them to the building closest to the Capitol on the right. “Shoot whoever’s in range.”

Natasha and Hill darted off, jogging in unison, toward the building.

“Barton, I need you on top of the Capitol. Take some of these bastards out from behind.”

Barton drew an arrow from his quiver. “I’ll need a lift.”

Tony hobbled toward him. “I think we’ve established I can do that, Katniss.”

Bucky motioned them on. “Go. Good luck.”

Barton nodded. “Back at ya, Cap.” Tony grabbed him from behind and zoomed into the sky.

Bucky looked at the Asgardians, Pepper, and Hulk. “That leaves us as the ground assault.”

“Suicide,” Fandral corrected. He shrugged when Bucky glared at him. “I will call it by its true name.”

Bucky slung the shield forward. “No one’s making you stay. If you want to leave, leave.”

Fandral glanced at Sif and his other two companions. “We have faced worse. No, Midgardian, we will not leave.”

Pepper’s eyes glowed. She had slightly less control over Extremis than Rory did but she was still powerful enough to be deadly. “It’ll take them a little while to beat me back, Barnes. I’m in.”

Bucky looked to Hulk. “What about you?”

Hulk huffed. “Bucky dumb. Needs protecting.”

Bucky couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face. Hulk was brutally honest. Banner was as well but the way he expressed it was entirely different. He was glad the man had his back. Others would, and did, call Hulk a monster but Banner believed Bucky wasn’t a monster. Bucky could afford Hulk the same courtesy. “Thanks. That makes me feel so good about myself.”

Pepper shared a smile with Sif.

“Come, James. Let us finish this. For the crimes you carry on your shoulders,” Sif said, drawing her double-bladed sword.

Bucky straightened. “I’m not doing this for them.”

“You do this for the man you love.” Sif nodded. “A noble cause. If we carry this day, long may people remember it.”

“Yeah, people don’t really do that here,” Bucky told her. He broke into a run, holding the shield in front of him.

Sif and the others fell in beside him, Hulk’s enormous weight shaking the ground as he ran. “For someone such as you,” she countered, not even out of breath, “they should make an exception.”

Hydra’s super soldiers opened fire. Hulk leapt over Bucky and pummeled the first few lines of soldiers to unrecognizable pulps. 

Bucky remembered how Steve used the shield, throwing it in such a way that it came back to him. It was worth a try. He threw the shield ahead of him. It slammed into one soldier, hard enough to break bone. Bucky ripped the shield away, leaving a deep enough gash that the man would bleed out, super soldier or not. 

Sif, Fandral, and the two Bucky still had no name for readied their weapons. The one with red hair wielded a double-bladed axe with deadly precision. Hydra’s soldiers unfortunate enough to encounter him lost their heads before they could fire off enough bullets to bring him down. The other one threw knives with a skill even Bucky couldn’t match and he was deadly with knives. Once that Asgardian got in closer quarters, he switched to a morgenstern and proved just as deadly as his companion. Fandral and Sif slashed through soldiers with swords.

Hulk grabbed a blue car and hurled it into another group of soldiers, bellowing, “Blue punch buggy!”

Rory glided down beside Sam. She heard what the Hulk said and added as she strafed the soldiers that scattered, “No punch backs!” She landed on Bucky’s left. “Use the shield. You can direct Tony’s weapons and some of Extremis, take out larger swaths of guys.” She shot a stream of fire toward him and he used the shield like she suggested. Together, they killed quite a few of Hydra’s men.

But not enough.

Bullets flying, grenades exploding, Tony’s suit’s discharges, Pepper and Rory with their Extremis, Hulk smashing anything in sight, and the Asgardians’ remarkable fighting prowess made no dent in the force they faced. The information they’d gleamed 

Two soldiers grabbed Rory’s suit and pulled the wings off. They held her, yanked her head back, and stabbed her. She screamed but couldn’t break free. Soldiers grounded the Falcon suit. They separated him from the rest. 

Bucky fought hard to reach both of them—hearing Rory scream like that sent shivers down his spine—but he couldn’t get past that many guns. He looked around and realized they were losing. Badly. 

The soldiers rounded all of them up onto the green space in front of the reflecting pool. They were injured, bruised, beaten. Not even Hulk, with his apparent immortality, could break through.

Bucky realized they were going to die. Hydra was going to win. He half expected Pierce’s voice to taunt him and his shortcomings, how he’d failed Steve, how he’d failed everyone. He almost would have welcomed it but the only voice left in his head was his own. The only person occupying his mind now was himself.

He wanted to throw everything he had into one last go but Sif held him back. “Do not act rashly, James. There may yet be hope for us.”

He couldn’t see it. This was not how he imagined his life ending but, if it had to end, he was glad it would be while fighting Hydra. The remarkable irony was he had finally defeated Hydra in himself as they lost the war. 

I’m so sorry, Steve, he thought, looking skyward. I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t replace you.

I love you.

Hydra’s soldiers levels their guns at them and prepared to fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading, liking, commenting, etc. You guys are super wonderful. :)


	28. Chapter 28

“Hold your fire!”

The soldiers lowered their weapons, a uniform motion that made them seem more like robots than human beings. They behaved eerily like the Winter Soldier before Bucky started peeking through. Except there were far more of them. A nuclear blast compared to a grenade.

Sam stiffened as the speaker strode through the lines of soldiers.

Crossbones—Rumlow—smiled at them. “I told you Hydra creates order through pain, did I not?” He spread his arms. “And you have experienced pain at the hands of Hydra’s soldiers. Are you ready to admit the error of your old ways?”

Rory threw a worried glance at Sam. “Sam, what is it?” she whispered.

“That’s the guy who shot Steve,” he gritted out.

Rory’s lips curled back in a snarl. 

Natasha overheard what Sam said and drew in a breath. She said nothing. The set of her shoulders and anger in her eyes said all that needed to be said. She hadn’t gotten a go at Rumlow for his initial betrayal and now, it looked like she still wasn’t going to get that chance.

Sam might have fought her for a spot in that line.

Crossbones grew impatient when no one answered him. “You won’t admit it, will you? You, you superheroes and your genetics and your weapons. You think the world will have your back. What if I gave them the choice? Their lives for yours?” He motioned to a couple of the soldiers. “Bring them out.”

Soldiers escorted lines of people out of the Capitol onto the green space. Congressmen, senators, aides, paper pushers, thousands of people huddled together in fear.

Crossbones directed his attention toward them. “Look at your would-be rescuers. With my meager force, I have humbled them, and you. Now you have a decision to make and you’d better make the right one. Their lives. Or yours. You have five minutes.”

“They will not choose us,” Hogun grumbled. “And we will be forced to fight these creatures to the death.”

“Their lives or ours, it will make little difference,” Volstagg boasted. “Songs will still be sung in our honor for the fight we have fought this day.”

“You should mind your tongue. Songs mean little to those left behind,” Sif murmured, watching Bucky’s shoulders slump. “Each of us has someone who will mourn our passing, Volstagg. You cannot tell me your wife and children will not miss you.”

Volstagg deflated. “No, sadly, I cannot.”

Sif looked to the sky. “We need assistance, Heimdall. Send word to Thor. We cannot defeat these soldiers on our own.”

Hill crossed the green to where Sam stood. 

Sam offered her a half smile. “We’re not gonna walk away from this one,” he told her. “They got too many guys. We’re just not enough.”

She gazed at the soldiers, lost in thought. “If we could get the drop on them, we might stand a chance.”

“Sounds like you’re coming up with a plan,” he pointed out.

She shrugged. “Not so much a plan as a stalling tactic.” She nodded toward the terrified group of civilians. “That’s the governing body of this country. You can’t tell me the military isn’t mobilizing a rescue attempt. You can’t tell me Colonel Rhodes would stand by and let his best friend die.”

Sam glanced back at Tony, who had his arms around Pepper. He bit back the familiar sting of guilt. If they failed, they would die. Some of them had chosen this life, to put their lives on the line. Others got swept along. None of them deserved the fate Hydra had waiting for them. He turned back to Hill. “What’s your plan?”

***

Bucky heard Hogun’s predictions and they sat heavily on his shoulders. The Asgardian was right. Those people wouldn’t choose to save any lives but theirs. Rumlow delaying the kill order meant nothing. All it did was give him time to think. Of everything Bucky didn’t want, that was close to the top. 

He didn’t want to think about Steve unconscious in Asgard, recovering, or about how badly he’d take the news of the massacre about to occur. He couldn’t imagine the emotional toll on his best friend when he lost everything he’d fought so hard to gain. Bucky covered his face with his hands and choked back a sob.

How had he come so far only to lose now?

Natasha sat down next to him. “You’re looking a little worse for wear,” she commented lightly.

He groaned. “What do you want?”

“Actually, I wanted to check on you.”

Bucky raised his head. “What?”

She put her hands on the ground behind her and leaned back, letting her arms support her. “I said I wanted to check on you. I know I haven’t been the friendliest toward you. Keeping up with your boyfriend is a full-time job so I figured Sam could look after you.”

“Sam’s been great,” Bucky agreed. Then some of Natasha’s words really hit him. “Wait-boyfriend?”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Come on, Barnes. After Kiev, you think I didn’t know?”

He stared out at the terrified throng of people they were supposed to save and shook his head. “Boyfriend, huh? That’s how they’re calling it now?”

“Yep. People didn’t suddenly become creative during those years you missed,” she teased. “I’m serious though, how are you holding up? This isn’t exactly an ideal situation.”

“Not an ideal situation?” he repeated her words back numbly. “What’s your definition of a bad situation?”

“Something a whole lot worse than this,” she replied, her voice soft. There would be no further discussion on that topic. Bucky knew it had to be bad.

“Any ideas how we get out of this?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not a one.” The admission hurt her to say from the way her face contorted slightly around the words, like they were vile. “But there are several smarter people than myself in this ragtag group. Someone has to figure something out.”

Rory flopped onto the grass on Bucky’s other side. “Everybody avoiding Hogun’s croakings of doom?” She leaned forward over her knees. “Sam was looking for you, Natasha.”

Bucky didn’t miss the silent exchange between Natasha and Rory as the ex-assassin rose gracefully. 

“Is there a conspiracy between you guys to make sure I’m okay?” he asked wryly. “Everyone over the past few days has asked me that.”

Rory tilted her head. The action reminded him of a cat. “I wasn’t going to ask how you were. Seems like a dumb question really.”

He stared at her. He hadn’t expected that.

“I mean,” she continued, “we’re all doing piss poorly at the moment. I don’t know about you but I haven’t slept in about seventy-two hours. My brother’s dead. And I’m about to join him.” She gazed straight up at the sky, not blinking, unseeing. “If I’ve had a worse day, I can’t think of it at the moment.”

Bucky took a moment to just look at the woman responsible for saving his life, and Steve’s. Young and exhausted were the two words he kept coming back to. “I’m sorry for getting you involved.”

She made a noise of protest. “It’s not your fault, Cap. I signed up for it when I decided to take Extremis, you know? Plus, I could have chosen a safer job opportunity.”

He was curious why she decided to take Extremis, why she let scientists play around with her genetics in such an invasive way.

He didn’t get the chance to ask.

***

Crossbones watched the proceedings intently. He’d engineered this moment since he’d woken in the hospital, when the nurse informed him Pierce was dead and Project Insight destroyed. He’d placed the journal in the abandoned base in Kiev, knowing how it would shake Rogers to his core. He’d sent the soldiers after Rogers, forcing him to retreat to DC. Although he hadn’t planned on Stark finding the asset so quickly, it had worked to his advantage. He needed the asset to remember the past Hydra had erased because only then could the asset be caught and the secrets locked in his DNA retrieved.

He loved it when a plan came together. Because now he could get his revenge.

Simply put, Crossbones wanted to kill the people responsible for thwarting Hydra’s schemes. If it helped further those schemes, well—that was no concern of his. There were others in the world fighting the good fight in Hydra’s name.

He watched, without interest, as the spokesperson for the civilians approached him. He knew their answer before the man opened his mouth.

“Ours.”

Crossbones motioned to the soldiers.

***

Sam held his breath. Hill refrained from saying anything until the soldiers had them again at gunpoint. What she was about to do was a desperation play, something she wouldn’t do in any other circumstance.

“Wait!” she called out to get Rumlow’s attention. “Call your soldiers off.”

He held a hand up to stall the kill order. He was intrigued.

She had him. “What if we propose an exchange?”

He laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “We’ve already had the exchange.” He pointed at the civilians. “They exchanged your lives for theirs.”

“I propose another exchange,” she countered. “Our lives-“ she grabbed Bucky’s arm and yanked him along beside her as she strode toward Rumlow- “in exchange for his.” She shoved Bucky to his knees and pressed her gun to his head.

“Hill!” “Agent!” “What the hell?” came the chorus from the rest of the Avengers.

Hulk growled menacingly from behind her but she didn’t turn around. It might have been a mistake not to include him in the plan, Sam mused, if he thought Bucky’s life was in danger.

“I admire your tenacity,” Rumlow admitted. He jerked Bucky’s head back by his hair. “You have been far more trouble than you’re worth. What Pierce saw in you, I will never know. But I will make sure you won’t walk away this time.”

Rumlow smiled at them. “Look at them, asset. They aren’t coming to your aid now. Why would they support the man responsible for so many deaths?”

Sam would never forget the horror on Bucky’s face when Rumlow forced him to look at the Avengers, held at gunpoint, not fighting to get to him. He caught Rory’s gaze. Damn, the girl could act. Her anger and frustration at Hill’s supposed betrayal even had him convinced. She tried to rush toward Bucky but two soldiers forced her back.

Using Hill’s distraction to her advantage, Pepper slipped to the opposite end of the group from Rory, waiting for a signal.

The first chords of AC/DC’s Shoot to Thrill came in on their intercom. 

That was all the signal they needed.

“Guess I won’t be joining Hydra after all.” Hill aimed the gun at Rumlow. “This is for Steve.” She fired a bullet, blowing a large hole in Rumlow’s head. “This is for Bucky!” She fired two more bullets into Rumlow’s head. “Pepper, Rory, now!”

Pepper rushed the soldiers nearest Hill, burning them to ashes. Rory propelled herself into the fray, leaping over Bucky’s shoulders.

Bucky got to his feet but he couldn’t pry his eyes away from Rumlow’s corpse. 

“What was that about, Agent?” Tony demanded, walking up beside Bucky.

Bucky glanced up.

“That,” Hill replied, “was me saving our asses.” She fired several shots off into the throng of soldiers. “You can thank me later.”

Iron Patriot flew past, blasting a section of soldiers back.

Tony’s mouth fell open. “Well…okay. About time he showed up.”

Colonel Rhodes chuckled over the comm. “Looked like you guys could use the help. I figured I’d bring back up.”

Several platoons of Marines stormed across the National Mall. Sam saw snipers take position on the nearby buildings. 

Lightning split the sky, Thor right on its heels.

Sam burst out laughing. “About time he showed up too.” He clapped Bucky on the shoulder. 

“Are we-?” Bucky started. “Did we just-?”

Sam nodded, struck speechless.

Bucky examined the situation, the newly arrived soldiers, the government officials. “Fine, let’s be smart about this. Everyone, form a ring around the civilians. Protect them at all costs.”

Everyone replied “Aye, Cap.”

The fight had resumed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not super happy with this chapter. Nobody would do what they were supposed to. I'm hoping they'll be back on track next chapter.
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone for reading, liking, and commenting! :)


	29. Chapter 29

Bucky was operating in a continual state of disbelief. He had yet to process Hill pretending to turn him over to Crossbones or Colonel Rhodes and Thor’s sudden appearance with what seemed to be half the US army behind them, even as he punched, kicked, and repeatedly slung the shield against any person that got in his way. If he slammed them back with his metal arm, he didn’t notice anymore. It was another tool in his arsenal, a way to keep himself alive. Damn it, he was not going to die today.

They were beating Hydra’s soldiers back. Much as he couldn’t believe they were doing it, they were beating Hydra. They were winning.

Sif rushed past him, all coiled power, a wild smile on her face. She tore into the soldiers with everything she had, Fandral watching her back every step of the way. 

Tony, Clint, Natasha, Hulk. Pepper, Rory, Sam, Hill. They found their hidden reserves of strength and energy and pushed on until Hydra’s forces scattered.

When it was over, Bucky’s legs punched in their time cards, groaned at having to work so much overtime, and quit. He collapsed and took a moment to catch his breath.

Sam fell down beside him, a breathless laugh on his lips. “Dude, I think we won.” He held out a hand. “Congrats, Captain.”

Bucky shook it.

“We can’t keep calling him Captain,” Tony remarked, hobbling over. He still favored his broken ankle. Bucky admired that he fought alongside them despite his injury. “When Rogers gets back, that’ll be confusing as all get out.”

“Bucky works fine, guys.”

“What about Bucky Cap?” Rory suggested.

“No.”

“Oh, come on. You get to keep Bucky and we get to call you Cap,” she protested. “It’s a win-win.”

He glared at her. “I think I told you the day I met you that you talk too much.”

She shrugged, the very picture of innocence. “Your point?”

“You got an off switch?”

Tony and Sam clutched their sides as they laughed at the expression on her face. She stuck her tongue out, crossed her arms and pouted.

“Guess you found it,” Sam teased when she didn’t say anything.

She made a disgruntled noise, which caused Sam to laugh harder.

“Girl, I had no idea you were such a Jeff Dunham fan.”

Bucky glanced between them. “Who’s Jeff Dunham?”

They both turned to him, identical smiles on their faces. Neither could get a word in edgewise over the other as they tried to explain this mystery person to him. All he caught was that the man was a comedian, a ventriloquist. Finally Rory said, “We’ll watch one of his shows when we get back to New York, how bout that? We just- we can’t do him justice.”

“You do a pretty good Peanut impression though,” Sam told her.

She beamed. “That’s because I’m caffeinated on nowhere near enough sleep to count. Can you think of a better way to describe Peanut?” she asked. “Other than drugs?”

Natasha butted into the conversation when she arrived, leaning casually over Sam’s shoulder. “Wait, are you guys talking about Jeff Dunham? Because Achmed is the best.”

Sam laughed. “Really? Is anyone surprised? I’m surprised.”

“You haven’t seen her try to reenact some of his stunts,” Clint countered. “Trust me. He’s her favorite.”

Rory smiled at Bucky as Sam tried to explain to Clint the finer points of sarcasm. “You must think we’re a little bit nuts.”

He held his hands up. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

Her smile grew. She threw her head back and laughed.

Bucky watched them unwind from the intensity of the battler. Bruce had returned fully clothed even though he didn’t say much. Thor and the other Asgardians stood a short distance away discussing something that was probably important. Bucky didn’t have enough energy to care about it. Clint and Natasha splintered away, bantering about some escapade of hers where she’d blown something up she shouldn’t have. Sam and Rory stretched out on the grass. Bucky was pretty sure Rory was already asleep. Tony and Pepper—well, he let them have a quiet moment.

Seeing them though made him miss Steve like a limb, which was a bad comparison when he thought about it, albeit an apt one. He almost got up to ask Thor to take him to Asgard. With Hydra now beaten back, he had nothing preventing him from gluing himself to Steve’s bedside.

“Mr. Barnes! Mr. Barnes! You’re okay!”

Little Hannah ran across the debris-littered grass and tackled him in the biggest hug she could muster, her arms wrapping around his neck.

“Mommy said you were dead but I knew you weren’t.” She looked so proud of her faith in him.

Hannah’s mother approached more slowly and less excitedly than her daughter. “She refused to go home until she was sure you were alright,” she explained.

Bucky drew back to look Hannah in the eye. “I thought I told you to mind your mother.”

Hannah just burrowed her face into his shoulder, his bad shoulder he noted absentmindedly. She didn’t seem to mind. Neither did he.

Carefully, he stood, supporting Hannah’s weight with his metal arm. The arm sent pain signals back to his brain. He bit back a grimace. It would need a lot of work, and soon. But for now, he could still use it for this.

Hannah’s mother had the good grace to look sheepish. “I was wrong about Hydra, I guess.” She patted her daughter’s head. “Thank you for saving her life. And mine.”

Bucky managed to shake her hand. He disentangled Hannah and, with minimal protest from her, passed her off to her mother.

As they walked away, Sam murmured, “A lot of people owe you their lives. That’s something you should be proud of.”

And that? That felt good. If Bucky took a moment to bask in that, the feeling that what he was, what Hydra had made him, could be used for good, who could blame him? How long had Hydra told him he wasn’t worth the ground he walked on? That he was a failure? That no one cared enough for him to stand up for him, or beside him?

In a way, saving the day was Bucky’s final steps toward reclaiming himself. He’d shut out Pierce’s voice, the poisonous words that man had filled his head with no longer seeping into his brain. Any doubts and regrets Bucky had now were his own. The voice in his head was his.

He knew he wasn’t fixed. Not by a long shot. Sam said he’d have bad days. Maybe that meant Pierce would come back. But Bucky knew he had people he could count on to drive that voice away.

Today, though, today was a good day.

Until the assholes that called themselves congressmen decided to ruin it.

Hill crossed her arms. “Looks like we’ve got company.” The tone of her voice put everyone on alert. Even Rory woke up despite looking woozy and very haggard. 

“You!” one man shouted, pointing an accusing finger at them. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Tony took that one. “Well, Senator, we’re relaxing. See, some of us decided to actually work today.”

Bucky pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. It was nice to see some things never changed.

The Senator wasn’t taking Tony’s shit. “Don’t play coy, Mr. Stark. You and your ragtag band of heroes-“ he sneered the word “-practically destroyed the National Mall.”

“We saved your lives,” Hill contested. “You could at least be grateful.”

“Grateful?” another man spat. “Why should we be grateful? We were dragged out of the Capitol, at gunpoint. You didn’t save us. The fricking army saved us.”

Clint held Natasha back from slitting the man’s throat. 

Bruce tossed his two cents’ worth in. “The army couldn’t have stopped all of those soldiers, Senator, and you know it. Hydra was too powerful for you to handle alone.”

“And that makes you think you can waltz in and do what? Blow things up?” This came from a senior military advisor. “You should all be arrested.”

Natasha cooled down enough to speak. “I think we’ve already had that discussion when you called me in for questioning about the helicarrier incident. Arresting us won’t by you anything because, if today showed you anything, it’s that you still need us.”

The advisor fumed. “What about him?” He pointed at Bucky. “That man said he’d killed people.”

“Haven’t we all?” Rory added quietly but no one aside from Bucky acted like they heard her.

One of the Senators who hadn’t yet spoken motioned two police officers, who had arrived to assist with the cleanup, over. “Officers, according to the files S.H.I.E.L.D. released, this man has committed over two dozen political assassinations, one of whom has been confirmed as President Kennedy. Another, Howard Stark and his wife.”

The officers moved to handcuff Bucky but Thor stepped in and held one back by the shoulder. Tony inserted himself between the other and Bucky.

“Mr. Stark, if you don’t move, I’ll arrest you as well for obstruction of justice,” the officer warned.

Tony glanced over his shoulder at Bucky. 

The way Bucky saw it Tony had two options. He could stand aside and let the officers arrest him or he could be arrested as well. Bucky hoped Tony wouldn’t be stupid and choose the second option. There was no need for anyone to put themselves through that on his account.

“Tony, don’t.”

“Arrest me then,” Tony said, surprising the officer. Surprising Bucky. When the officer didn’t move, Tony reiterated, “Arrest me.”

“He’s serious,” the military advisor muttered.

The officer started to handcuff Tony when Pepper moved in front of Bucky as well. “Me, too.”

Rory added her voice next, then Sam, Natasha, even Clint and Hill. Bruce didn’t say anything but he took his place on Bucky’s right so he didn’t have to. Sif protected Bucky’s left side, her three Warriors beside her.

“If you wish to arrest James,” the Asgardian warrior said, “you will have to arrest us all.”

Bucky felt his heart swell. He would have never asked any of them for this and yet they did it anyway.

“It looks like you have a losing battle on your hands, son,” a vaguely familiar voice interrupted. “Arresting one of the Avengers will bring the wrath of the others.”

The growing crowd parted to reveal the President of the United States, Colonel Rhodes on his six.

“Senators, advisors, officers, don’t you recognize this man? This is Sergeant James Barnes.”

“Be that as it may, sir, but he should answer for crimes he’s committed.”

“And what crimes are those, officer?” the President asked. “If the Senator had read the files correctly, he would know that Barnes was not responsible for those acts.”

The Senator scoffed. “There is footage of him, sir. We have to arrest him, make an example of him.”

“No, we don’t.” The President turned to Tony. “You know, I’m learning wherever there’s trouble, Mr. Stark, you’re not far away.”

“Sorry about that, sir. I can’t guarantee I’ll change my ways though.”

The President laughed. “The world would be less colorful if you did.” He turned to Bucky. “I’m betting you don’t know me. The Colonel filled me in as best he could so forgive me if I’m fuzzy on the details of your situation.” He extended his hand. “I’m President Ellis.”  
Bucky shook his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.” 

“Actually, the honor is mine. You and the Howling Commandos rescued my father from behind German lines during the War. He spoke often of all of you, you and Captain Rogers most of all.” He noticed Bucky carrying the shield and glanced around. “Where is the Captain?”

“He was shot during out last mission but he’s expected to make a full recovery,” Bucky informed him.

Thor added, “He is receiving the best care our healers can provide.”

“Good, good.” The President considered Bucky. “I suppose that makes you Captain America now?”

“Uh-no, no- I’m not-“ he tried to protest but Rory covered his mouth with her hand, shushing him. He pried her hand away, glaring at her.

“I think the world needs more than one,” President Ellis explained.

The officers raised a fuss. “Sir, he can’t be Captain America. We’re arresting him.”

Ellis addressed the officers. “If it will ease your consciences, I will sign an official pardon for this man. I think that’s the least I can do to show my, and the nation’s, appreciation for his actions.”

Several politicians erupted angrily, their voices overlapping. The President left to deal with them. Bucky stared after him, his mouth hanging open. 

Not all of the civilians they rescued were as ungrateful. One of the younger congresswomen stepped forward. “Let’s hear it for Captain America and the Avengers!”

The crowd burst into applause.

Bucky felt Rory and Sam throw their arms over his shoulders. He couldn’t stop the tears streaming down his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading and liking and commenting. You guys are the most amazing people ever!


	30. Chapter 30

Tony practically dragged Bucky into his lab once they got back to New York. Bucky humored him but warned that he had twenty-four hours then he was gone. He needed to check on Steve.

Thankfully, Tony understood that. He made the necessary repairs to Bucky’s prosthetic quickly, efficiently. Bucky hadn’t had much of a chance to see Tony in his element but here, in the lab, Tony reminded Bucky most of Howard. Father and son shared a deep love of science. Or, as Rory called it, fucking around.

Rory popped in to administer first aid to the puncture wounds dotting his back and to check his head wound. She’d cleaned them and bound them on the plane ride but she needed to change the dressings again. 

Bucky bit his lip as she cleaned the wounds with alcohol. The cold liquid stung when it came into contact with the broken skin.

“You know,” Tony said once he’d finished his repairs, “the tech in your arm is a little outdated. Doesn’t appear to match all the proper nerve connections in your shoulder.” He motioned up and down the arm. “Betting you can’t feel anything with it besides pressure, right?”

Bucky considered him. In a way, he’d come to grips with not being to feel with that arm. But if Tony could fix it… “That’s right.”

“Mind if I fiddle around with some redesigns? J.A.R.V.I.S. and I might be able to work around that.” Tony shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

“You-you could make it so I could feel? You could do that?” 

Tony shrugged again, acting like it wasn’t a big deal. Except, to Bucky, it was. “It’s not guaranteed but I’ll give it a shot.”

Before Bucky headed to the roof to meet up with Thor, he shook Tony’s hand. “I owe you one, Stark.” 

Tony just waved him off. “Go check on your boyfriend. After saving the world, God knows you deserve it.”

Bucky left the lab, a smile, albeit a small one, plastered on his face. By now, he wasn’t really surprised that everyone had picked up him and Steve being a thing. He was still surprised at it but apparently he was alone in that surprise.

Sam was waiting on the roof to see him off. “Have a safe trip.”

Bucky looked over at Thor. “Thanks. I think. Not quite sure I’m looking forward to travelling by whatever it is they use.”

“Wormholes,” Sam clarified. “That’s what Rory called them at least.” 

Bucky huffed in amusement. “That cleared things right up. Thank you, Sam.”

Sam burst out laughing. “You should put up a warning. Caution: sarcasm ahead.” He pushed Bucky toward Thor playfully. “Get outta here, man. We’ll see you when you get back.”

Bucky approached Thor and his companions. “So how does this work?” he asked with more than a little trepidation.

Sif smirked and offered him her arm. “Hang on tightly.”

Thor called out, “Heimdall, when you’re ready.”

A beam of light engulfed them and shot them into the sky. Bucky felt like his body was being ripped apart and reassembled simultaneously. The beauty of the wormhole around him though was too much to pass up. He stared at it in wonder as it zoomed past him. 

Before he knew it, he was stumbling into a domed antechamber. Standing atop a raised platform was a man in golden armor and a helmet with curved horns reaching above it. The man nodded at him, a deliberate movement with the weight of years and possibly no small amount of respect. “Welcome to Asgard, James Barnes.”

Sif explained, “Heimdall is the guardian of Asgard. His eyes see all, across all of the nine realms.”

So that’s what they were talking about. That tiny piece of information clicked into place and more than a couple conversations made a lot more sense. It also explained how a man he’d never met knew his name.

Heimdall stared down at him—no, stared through him. “Long have I watched you, Midgardian. Very few could have returned from the horrors you faced.” For a moment, those golden eyes bore into Bucky. Whatever Heimdall saw, he seemed satisfied with it. “The Lady Eir is expecting you.” To the Warriors Three, he said, “Lord Odin requests your presence at the palace. Please report to him.”

Fandral led the other two away across the bridge, leaving Thor and Sif to escort Bucky to the Hall of Healing. The splendor of Asgard, its otherworldliness, filled Bucky with a sense of wonder he hadn’t felt since long before the war.

They were greeted by Eir herself, an older woman with a graceful air. Again, Bucky had the distinctive feeling he was being looked into, looked through, and again, it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant experience. The Lady Eir spoke as Sif guided him inside. “Your sense of self is very strong. Strange that it should be so strong after…” her voice faded and she looked at him, considering. “There is something anchoring you, isn’t there? Something that heals you in ways not even I would be able to?”

And that was it, wasn’t it? What Bucky had accepted but hadn’t really thought about. Steve was his anchor, had been—had always been—his anchor. He looked to Steve when he was huddled in a foxhole, when Hydra had taken him hostage. Steve rescued him. Steve saved him, believed in him, pulled him out of the wreckage Hydra had created over years of torture and abuse. And Steve would be there as he dealt with those memories. Thanks to these people, people Bucky hardly knew, Steve survived. Bucky still had his anchor, his best friend, to hang on to.

Eir’s voice cut into his thoughts. “I think perhaps that relationship holds true in both directions.”

Now, Bucky was confused. “How do you mean?”

She motioned him into a room where Steve was lying on a bed, machines beeping around him. “We almost lost him,” she said. “Our medicine alone could not save him. But he held on.” The gaze she leveled at Bucky was knowing. “I have no doubt he did so because of you.”

Thor gripped Bucky’s shoulder. “We will give you time alone. If you should require anything, send word to the palace.”

Sif addressed the healer. “Perhaps a room could be prepared for James until his friend wakes?”

Eir nodded, leaving to do just that, and they left Bucky alone.

He staggered to a chair sitting cattycorner beside Steve’s bed. Dragging the chair closer, he collapsed in it. “It should really be you in the chair, me in the bed.” He glanced over Steve’s prone form. “This-this isn’t right.”

The words he spoke to Steve then he doubted he would ever say to anyone again—he admitted things he’d been afraid to admit before, about himself, about what Hydra created in him—but for once, he was able to say them.

He fell asleep in the chair, curled over the bed, still whispering secrets that Steve couldn’t hear.

***

Waking up after a long period of unconsciousness was incredibly disorienting and frankly, it was happening frequently enough to be worrying. Steve examined his surroundings and, while hospital rooms must run generic across the galaxy, the bells and whistles of this one were strange and unrecognizable. He vaguely remembered arriving in Asgard. The architecture and technology matched what he remembered so he let himself relax into the bed.

Most of his injuries had healed nicely. The only part of his body that hurt was his abdomen. Where he’d been shot. The wound was still wrapped tightly with cloth.

Something shifted on the bed beside him, putting a weight on that side, making the bed dip. Steve glanced over, saw what had moved, and smiled. 

Bucky was sitting in a chair pulled up right next to the bed. He hunched over the white sheets, leaning on his good arm. And he was fast asleep. His hair fell across his face, barely moving as he inhaled and exhaled. For once, he looked at peace. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Bucky look that peaceful. His metal arm was stretched out, his metal hand butting up against Steve’s.

Steve laced his fingers with Bucky’s. 

The slight movement was enough to rouse Bucky from sleep. With a soft groan, he unfolded like a cat. His gaze fell first on where their hands were clasped together. Steve watched the gears grinding behind Bucky’s eyes. He snapped his gaze up to Steve’s and when he saw Steve was awake, a small, very relieved, smile spread across his face. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve croaked, his voice raw from disuse, mirroring Bucky’s smile with one of his own.

“You stupid punk,” Bucky muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t ever do this to me again.”

“You know I can’t promise that,” Steve pointed out. “I’ve ended up in a hospital more times in the past few months than either of us would care to count.”

Bucky sighed and brought their hands up and pressed them to his head. “I know. I know. But, God, kid, you scared me so bad.”

Steve squeezed Bucky’s metal hand. “Hey.” When Bucky didn’t move, Steve tried again. “Hey, jerk.”

Bucky finally raised his head to look Steve in the eye.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Steve tried to sit up a little. The effort hurt but he pushed through it. “I never meant to put you through that.”

Bucky looked away. “Is this what it felt like?”

“What are you talking about? What what felt like?”

“After-“ Bucky’s voice broke. 

Steve knew what he was talking about. “Bucky…” He leaned back into the mass of pillows. “You gotta stop beating yourself up for that, you know. Wasn’t your fault.”

Bucky huffed. “Back at ya.”

Neither one would happen until pigs flew. Bucky was too protective of Steve; the serum hadn’t changed that. And Steve? Way too protective of Bucky. Steve outright laughed. Sharp pain shot up from his abdomen and his laugh morphed into a gasp.

The change was instantaneous. Suddenly, Bucky was all business. He shifted from the chair to the edge of the bed, checking Steve for injuries, going about his examination clinically to hide his concern. Steve tried to wave him off, saying he was fine, but Bucky refused to listen until he was completely sure Steve was okay.

Steve grabbed Bucky’s metal hand. “Jeez, Buck, I’m fine.”

Bucky leaned forward, got right in his face. “Will you just let me worry?”

Steve could feel Bucky’s breath on his face. Maybe their proximity made him a little reckless. Maybe. Or maybe it was just having Bucky there with him. “That’s all you ever do,” he muttered. “Mother hen.”

Bucky’s gaze fell to his lips. “You got a mouth on ya, anyone ever told ya that?”

Steve made a show of thinking about it. “Seems like you used to tell me that all the time. I could be mistaken though.”

Bucky inched closer. “Ever think of lookin’ to fix that?”

Steve pushed himself off the pillows, closing the rest of distance between them. “If I said no?” He felt Bucky slide a hand across his cheek. His breath caught in his throat. 

“Then I’d said you were really dumb,” Bucky teased.

“Really? Cos I thought you took all the stupid with you.”

Bucky ducked his head, his entire body shaking with quiet laughter. When he raised his head again, he said, “You need some new comebacks.”

“You laughed so fuck off.” Watching Bucky laugh, watching him remember, watching him be Bucky, having them slip so easily into the banter they used to have-

“The hell you’d just say?” Bucky asked, his voice low. There was an intensity building in his eyes behind the teasing.

Steve threw all caution to the wind. “I said fuck off.” He was daring Bucky to do something, hoping Bucky would pick up on it.

Bucky slid his hand back into Steve hair. “You gonna make me, punk?”

Short answer? Yes. Yes, he would. He pressed their mouths together, effectively shutting Bucky up.

The kiss wasn’t like the others they’d shared. There was no emotional turmoil behind it. For once, neither Steve nor Bucky had snapped to get them here. No, this was happening because they just wanted it to. The slow slide of their lips against each other sent shivers down Steve’s spine.

He broke contact, both of them slightly out of breath. With a smile, he teased, “What were you saying, Buck?”

Bucky’s face was slack. 

A twinge of worry crept into Steve’s mind. “Buck?”

“Steve…” Bucky’s voice tapered off. He laid his head on Steve’s chest, lowering his arms to wrap Steve in a hug.

Steve brought his arms up around his friend and rested his head on Bucky’s. “I’m right here, Buck. Not going anywhere.” He didn’t know how long they sat like that but Steve wasn’t going to say anything. He was comfortable and had nothing else to get in his way. He could finally take care of his best friend the way Bucky needed him to.

Over the course of the day, Bucky filled him in on their defeat of Hydra’s soldiers, how they’d almost died and how Rhodes and Thor flew in and saved the day. How Rumlow was dead, how he knew that Rumlow had been the one to shoot Steve and how badly he wanted him dead. He admitted he was glad he wasn’t the one to pull the trigger. Steve smiled when Bucky talked about Hannah. Bucky had always been good with kids.

Bucky didn’t say anything about Steve giving him the shield but Steve saw a subtle shift in how Bucky carried himself, in the set of his shoulders. A little more confidence, a little less guilt. If being Captain America would help Bucky recover, Steve would gladly share the title.

A nurse flitted in and out a few times to check his bandages but she seemed satisfied with his recovery. She gave him permission to get up and walk around as long as he took it easy.

Bucky helped him get dressed and supported his weight as he got out of bed. Steve flipped Bucky off when he teased him about being an old man.

They took their time, exploring the area around the hospital. Neither spoke. What words needed to be said could wait.

Steve tired out far more easily than he wanted to admit. Thankfully, Bucky picked up on it without him saying anything. They found a nearby courtyard, one tucked beneath several large trees. Bucky helped Steve to the ground and in the heat of the afternoon, they fell asleep tucked against each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of y'all have been waiting for this. :)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, commenting, everything. You guys are the greatest.


	31. Chapter 31

Later that night, after Eir deemed Steve well enough to be moved to the room prepared for Bucky, and after Steve tried and failed to make Bucky take the bed, he tried to hold a conversation with Bucky. Not the easiest task since they were both drop dead tired. 

“You ever think about that day when we went to Coney Island?” Steve asked, his voice heavy with sleep. 

Bucky opened his eyes. He hadn’t quite drifted off but he was awfully close. Of all the things Steve would bring up when he was feeling nostalgic, he had to choose a day that Bucky both enjoyed, in a sick, horrible way, and regretted. Because, honestly, who would have thought Steve could get that sick? “I’ll never live that down, will I?” he murmured.

Hearing Steve laugh took Bucky back to when they were kids and Steve, scrawny kid that he had been, stayed over and they both slept on the sofa cushions they piled onto the floor. It was a drowsy laugh that only existed on the border between consciousness and sleep. Bucky had heard it more time than he could count and it had always made him smile. It just took him a nice long while to figure out he loved hearing it.

Steve rolled onto his stomach, chin propped against a pillow. “Nope. You’re too much fun to pick on.” He smiled. “We should go back.”

“You wouldn’t throw up again, would ya? 'Cause I am not dealing with that a second time,” Bucky groused but deep down, he thought the idea had merit. It might actually be a lot of fun.

Steve flopped over on his back. “Like you wouldn’t tease me for it. You never did shut up after the first time.”

Bucky nudged him playfully with the foot he had stretched out on the bed. “You were too much fun to pick on,” he tossed Steve’s words back at him.

“Or we could go to Disney World,” Steve added.

He hadn’t heard of Disney World. “What?” he asked, thoroughly confused.

Steve repeated what he said as slowly as he could, dramatically enunciating each word.

The asshole.

Bucky shoved him a little harder with his foot, careful to avoid anything around the gunshot wound. Steve swatted his foot off the bed. Springing out of the chair with a laugh, an actual honest-to-God laugh, Bucky leapt onto the bed, his face ending up inches away from Steve. If he hadn’t been fully awake before, he was now.

The air between them electrified as Bucky’s laugh died on his lips. And oh, how many times had they roughhoused before to end up like this only to let that spark fizzle out because neither had the guts to claim it? Not this time.

Steve surged up, closing the distance between them. But he didn’t kiss him. Not yet. No, the bastard hesitated, gazing up at Bucky like he was asking for permission. Bucky fell, and God did he fall hard. Then Steve pressed their lips together and Bucky wasn’t falling anymore.

All the world faded away, focused into that one point of contact, the friction of Steve’s chapped lips against his. Steve licked across his lips, again asking for permission that Bucky knew he couldn’t deny him. Physically letting Steve in was almost too easy. Steve reached up and threaded a hair through Bucky’s hair. Bucky bit back a moan and that was it. He was a goner.

He sat up, pulling Steve with him. Using both hands, he cupped Steve’s face, holding him tightly, as if by some kind of osmosis they could get any closer.

The kiss turned desperate, frantic, and hands started to wander. Steve dropped his hands to Bucky’s shoulders, tracing along the edge of Bucky’s metal arm.

Out of nowhere, the instinct to bolt, to hide, overrode any other command from Bucky’s brain and he scrambled away to the foot of the bed. The Asset, a part of Bucky that he would’ve sworn was locked away so deeply it wouldn’t rear its head again, reasserted itself to protect the person it knew as Bucky, from a threat it couldn’t fully identify. 

No, not it—he. The Asset was a person, remembered being a person. Remembered people treating him like a person. The time spent tucked into Bucky’s subconscious at least had some effect on the Asset’s damaged psyche. 

He watched the man on the other end of the bed mask confusion and hurt—why was he hurt? He’d done something, the Asset realized, something to hurt this man. What had he done?

“Bucky?” the man asked, keeping his distance, treating the Asset like a cornered animal.

The Asset shook his head, squeezed his eyes shut. Not Bucky. He wasn’t Bucky.

The man eased closer. “You’re safe here. No one’s gonna hurt you.” He bent over, trying to catch the Asset’s gaze. “I won’t let them.”

“Why?” The Asset couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to protect him. He was a weapon. That was all he was, all he knew. That and the constant fear having to go back to being only that, forgetting that there was anything other than that.

“Because you saved me. You pulled me out of the river.” He held his hands out toward the Asset. “Because you know me, even if you don’t know yourself.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bucky was rebooting. Little bits bled through. Bucky told the Asset the man was a friend. To the Asset, he was a mission. Friendmissionfriendmissionfriend. But the Asset knew what the man said was true. 

“Can you trust me to do the same for you?”

Steve. The man’s name was Steve. 

Not a threat. 

Never a threat.

He tentatively laid his hands in Steve’s.

His anchor.

In the end, that realization brought Bucky back, shaking, upset, embarrassed. The Asset melted away, faded into Bucky’s subconscious, leaving Bucky unable to meet Steve’s gaze. 

He bolted from the room to the sound of Steve calling out for him.

***

Steve remained on the bed for a few moments, trying to process what had just happened, before hobbling after Bucky.

He called out but Bucky was nowhere to be found.

Jesus, this was all his fault. 

“Bucky!” He looked around a corner. “Where are you?” he whispered. He searched in several rooms then went outside to the courtyard. 

Bucky sat underneath the tree with his knees tucked into his chest. He was rocking back and forth, staring at the lights of Asgard.

Steve sighed. He took a step forward but couldn’t bring himself to go any further.

“I know you’re standing there.” Bucky leaned over his knees. “Just make up your mind. Either get over here or leave me alone.”

Steve sat a short distance away, wanting to give his friend as much space as he could.

“Listen, Steve, I’m sorry. For that. I-I don’t know what happened.” Bucky sounded so miserable, like he was terrified he’d royally fucked things up.

Steve couldn’t bear for him to sound like that, couldn’t bear for him to think it, but he knew that Bucky needed to apologize. Even if it wasn’t necessary, it helped. Still, he said, “Buck, you got nothing to apologize for. You think I don’t understand triggers?”

Bucky shook his head. “But Stark did repairs on my arm and nothing happened. I don’t get it. Why did I-?”

“Nobody said this shit made sense. If it did, it wouldn’t be so hard to work through it.” Steve never spoke of his triggers, although Sam would probably like him to. Still, his were confined strictly to memory, things he still had nightmares of. Sensory triggers were something he had no experience with.

“God, I fucking hate this.” Bucky exhaled in frustration. “I mean—I just—I wanted to…”

Steve had no idea if the idea that sprang into his mind would work but he was willing to give it a try. “Do ya trust me?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “That might be one of the stupidest questions you’ve ever asked me.”

And if that wasn’t a typical Bucky response, Steve didn’t know what was. He led Bucky back into their room, sat him down on the bed. What he wanted to try, he didn’t ask permission for with words. He asked with his eyes, with glances and soft touches. 

Bucky took the lead, giving Steve his permission for whatever he was comfortable with Steve doing by doing it first. 

Steve traced across Bucky’s abdomen right below the hem of his shirt. He shivered when Bucky mirrored the action, a little higher due to the bandages, the feel of both skin and metal strange. Bucky slid his hands under Steve’s shirt, pushed the fabric up, letting his hands map Steve’s stomach. His gaze shifted up to Steve’s. “Can I-?”

Steve raised his arms and Bucky slowly, ever so slowly, took his shirt off, letting his fingers graze against the bare skin. Just as leisurely, Steve returned the favor. 

Bucky shirtless wasn’t a sight Steve hadn’t seen a hundred times. During the war, when they were on missions, there was no place for modesty. The crisscrossing scars emanating from Bucky’s prosthetic, while shocking, weren’t repulsive. How could they be? It was Bucky.

Metal fingers reached for his face, caressing down his cheek to his neck. Steve kept still as Bucky explored the various scars Steve sported, several of which Bucky had given him. The knife wounds in his shoulder, the gunshot wounds, Bucky felt them all, his brow furrowed. He was blaming himself, Steve knew. Steve also knew that he had said all he could say to alleviate Bucky’s guilt. Saying it now would do nothing. But Steve could pour out forgiveness and acceptance and love in the way he mapped the contours of Bucky’s face and in the way he kissed him.

His shoulders squared, Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand and placed it on his face, the truest expression of trust he could give. Steve stroked down Bucky’s neck, mindful of how his breathing sped up. He kept his hand in the nape of Bucky’s neck until Bucky’s breathing evened out. The scar tissue, when Steve finally thumbed over it, was smooth and raised but it was still skin. Down his chest and up his back, the scars ran. Steve shifted so he could reach Bucky’s back as well, hoping that, with a touch, he could erase Hydra’s claim on the arm and on Bucky. “You are not Hydra’s, Bucky,” he whispered.

“Who am I then?” Bucky whispered back, utterly broken. 

Steve pressed their foreheads together. “You’re James Barnes, born 1917 in Indiana, and you’re your own person.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear. “You’re the best damn friend a person could hope to have.”

Bucky pulled back and searched his face, disbelieving. Hoping.

“And I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky’s eyes brightened with pure, unadulterated joy. Steve was completely unprepared for the force of the hug Bucky gave him and he fell back against the bed, Bucky’s arms wrapped around him. 

They held each other, pressed as close together as they could get, skin against skin, until the first light of dawn began to illuminate the room. 

Bucky tried to crawl back into the chair.

“Wheredoyouthinkyouregoing?” Steve mumbled, face half buried in a pillow.

“Going to get some sleep,” came the amused reply.

Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand and tugged him back to the bed. “There’s more than enough room. And I think I learned to share from someone.”

Bucky settled in next to him and dragged the covers up over them both.

And maybe the bed was a little small to accommodate two genetically engineered soldiers but somehow they made it work, their legs tangled together, Bucky nuzzling into Steve’s chest.

Bucky mumbled, “Love you,” as he fell asleep. The words were muffled but Steve felt Bucky’s lips move, would know the shape of those words even if he couldn’t hear them.

He wrapped a protective arm around Bucky when he felt him start shivering and rested his head against the top of Bucky’s. As exhaustion finally got the better of him and he drifted off to sleep, all Steve thought about and wanted to do, from now until he no longer could, was keep Bucky safe and warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for insomnia. Ignore any and all typos because this is coming from a very sleep-deprived brain.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, liking, and commenting. :)


	32. Chapter 32

Bucky’s arm was asleep. The tingling up and down his good arm dragged him from a deep slumber. He tried to move the arm but found a weight keeping it in place. For a moment, panic set in at being contained, being captured, but he saw what was using his arm as a pillow, the adrenaline seeped from his blood and he calmed his breathing.

And he was warm. He remembered shivering before he’d completely fallen asleep but now he was warm, comfortable.

It was surprisingly nice.

Steve was still sleeping, his mouth slightly open, pinning Bucky’s arm to the bed. Bucky traced down his face with his free hand, his metal hand, as gently as he could, still not quite believing he could. Steve’s eyes fluttered open at the touch. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Bucky replied, feeling a smile tug at his lips.

Steve stretched languidly, releasing Bucky’s arm. “How’d you sleep?”

Bucky held his arm vertical and tried to shake out the tingling. “Well, I’d have slept a lot better if someone hadn’t crushed my arm.” He sat up, still shaking his arm.

“Cry about it. At least I didn’t snore.” Steve sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“I do not snore,” Bucky protested. He shoved Steve’s shoulder.

Steve went flying. He landed a couple of feet away, thudding hard against the floor.

Bucky panicked until breathless laughter came from the floor.

“You asshole. The fuck you’d do that for?” Steve managed to get out, climbing back up on the bed.

Bucky opened his mouth to say something in his defense. He hadn’t meant to shove Steve that hard. But he went flying through the air, slamming into the chair, before he could get anything out.

He righted himself to where he was sitting upright in the chair and glared at Steve laughing his ass off on the bed. “Guess I had that coming, huh?”

“Maybe.” But Steve smiled so Bucky knew he wasn’t in too much trouble. “Any idea what we can do today?”

“What trouble we can get into, you mean?” Bucky corrected.

Steve pulled his shirt on over his head. “Not sure we’d be able to get into much trouble.”

Bucky worried they’d overdone things, either last night or already this morning. Steve was still recovering and still tired easier than normal. “We could just explore. I think—I guess that’d be nice. Relaxing, you know?”

Steve chuckled. “Do we know how to do relaxing? Really, when was the last time we relaxed?”

Bucky sat back in the chair and thought a minute. They hadn’t relaxed since he got back. That much he knew. Any time spent under Hydra couldn’t be counted as relaxing. Then they had the war. So…it was before he’d shipped out. “God, it’s been a long time.”

Steve walked around the bed and crouched in front of Bucky. He slid between Bucky’s legs. Bucky froze in the chair, his eyes glued to Steve’s. Steve kissed him, with none of the tension from the night before. It was gentle, nothing really sexual in it, just a homecoming. “Let’s fix that.”

After getting permission from Eir, and with Thor and Sif’s help, they spent the day exploring Asgard. Thos explained the Nine Realms to them, telling Steve that Loki was from one of the other realms. There was a memorial near the palace. When Bucky asked who it was for, Thor told him it was for his mother who died protecting Jane Foster from the Dark Elf Malekith.

For most of the day, they stayed comfortably silent as they continued their exploration.

Night descended, a brilliant sunset illuminating the sky. Thor led them to a decent sized banquet hall. Easily over a hundred Asgardians milled around the banquet hall, talking, drinking, celebrating.

Sif told them, “Marauders attacked one of the major settlements in Alfheim. This is our celebration of their defeat. You are welcome to join us. We can celebrate our defeat of Hydra’s soldiers as well.”

Bucky glanced at Steve, wondering what they should do. 

“Come, let’s eat and drink to our victories,” Thor said, walking up between them.

They were jostled to a table with Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three. Volstagg sat among his huge family, Fandral between two gorgeous women. Hogun nodded as Bucky and Steve sat down. “It is good to see you on your feet, friend. Your wounds were serious.”

“I’m still kicking,” Steve said with a grin. He looked to Bucky. “It takes more than a bullet to bring me down.” Something in those words was directed to him, Bucky knew.

Thor clapped him on the shoulder. “Rarely have I met a Midgardian who can fight like an Asgardian.” He scanned the table. “Yet we are fortunate enough to have two in our midst.” The Asgardians raised their mugs of ale and cheered Steve, cheered Bucky.

Bucky ducked his head, his cheeks heating up.

Steve slipped an arm around him and held him close.

The revelry reminded Bucky of the nights in the Whip and Fiddle, right after Steve’s daring rescue, with music and alcohol and good company, before Steve had followed his foolhardy idea to take on Hydra with only a handful of men. He looked around the table and felt a pain in his chest at the memory of the Howling Commandos. In that moment, sharing in the celebration with a new group of friends, a new group of brothers—and sisters, he thought with a glance at Sif—he realized just how much time he’d lost.

The men and women he’d served next to, slept in foxholes with, suffered with at the hands of Hydra, they were all gone. They’d lived lives, full lives, moving on when he’d been stuck, trapped. Out of time. Unable to age.

He caught the expression on Steve’s face and knew he was thinking the same thing. “I miss ‘em,” he admitted under his breath so only Steve could hear.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Me too.” He reached across his lap and gripped Bucky’s hand tightly. “But you still got me.”

Bucky rested his head against Steve’s shoulder. He squeezed Steve’s hand. He couldn’t voice how thankful he was to Steve for everything he’d done to bring him back. The words kept getting stuck in his throat. His mouth just wouldn’t wrap around what he wanted to say.

But Steve understood that. Bucky swore the man could read his mind. Natasha or Rory probably had some pop culture reference to explain it.

Thor passed them each a mug of ale. “To victory! To our fallen! To old friends and new! And to our captains!” He nodded to Bucky, his eyes smiling.

Everyone raised their mugs with a cheer.

Volstagg’s children jumped excitedly in Bucky’s lap, crawling over to pester Steve, so Bucky didn’t have the time to protest Thor’s words. Bucky filed memories of the evening next to those he’d recovered from the Whip and Fiddle so he could remember both and remember them fondly.

As they walked back to the Hall of Healing, not requiring a guide now, Bucky asked Steve about older memories he thought he remembered. They spent the whole walk talking and laughing, the Asgardian ale actually poking through their genetic enhancements and making them a wee bit tipsy. If they flopped into the bed and exchanged sloppy kisses before they passed out, no one aside from them had to know.

***

Sif watched James and Steve leave after playing a large part of the night with Volstagg’s children. She slipped out to the balcony to keep an eye on them as they walked back to the Hall of Healing.

Thor appeared on her right. “You seem to have taken an interest in them,” he commented.

She pried her gaze away to look at him. “I see their pain and their sadness, enough for several of their lifetimes. Even we would bow under that weight yet they carry it upright, shoulders squared. They still have the strength to smile and laugh. Yes, I am interested in them.”

“Seeing Steve smile warms me greatly,” Thor admitted. “When I traveled to Midgard to stop Loki and his army, I fought by Steve’s side more than anyone else. He fights with a ferocity even you would admire. Yet he never smiled. There were wounds in his mind, in his heart, that wouldn’t heal.”

Sif nodded in the direction of the walkway Steve and James had disappeared down. “He is healing now,” she pointed out. “They found each other and they are healing.”

Thor shook his head. “There is still darkness in James’ heart. It will take a long time before that heals.”

That much she knew. She leaned against the railing. “Natasha showed me some of what he suffered while Stark repaired James’ arm. Thor, what they put him through—what they made him do…” she inhaled shakily. Her eyes had seen many horrors, far too many horrors for a Midgardian to withstand, yet watching the tortures Hydra devised to keep James in their employ shook her to her core. “I was unaware of how brutal humans could be to each other.”

“You had no issue then in ripping Hydra’s soldiers limb from limb?” Thor asked.

Her lip curled up in a snarl. “None at all, my lord.” She calmed herself, forcing the anger back into the reservoir she kept it in. “He doesn’t remember it, does he? All of that?”

Thor exhaled. “I spoke to Eir on this. She doesn’t seem to think so. He doesn’t even fully have his memory from before his captivity.”

“What will happen when those memories surface? With all that has happened in recent weeks, his mind has not had a chance to process them.”

Thor did not have an answer for her but his silence was answer enough.

“Will they be returning to Midgard soon?”

Thor nodded. “Tomorrow. Lady Eir thinks Steve’s recovery is remarkable. That he was able to join us this evening is a testament to that.”

“James will need more help than Steve alone can give,” she warned. “I can see that. Even Fandral can see that,” she emphasized, pointing out how serious the issue was if Fandral, the realm’s most clueless person in situations such as these, noticed it.

Thor knew what she was asking without her having to say the words. “He cannot stay here, Lady Sif. Earth is his home, the Avengers his friends. They are the only family he has left.”

“Then return with them,” she pressed. “Now that Hydra is defeated and his mind has moments of calm, of silence, more and more memories will bleed through. He will break. He will lash out. There is such anger in him but I doubt he even has noticed it. It may be that he will not.” She gripped Thor’s shoulder. “We cannot take the chance. For him. For Steve and the others. Promise me, Thor. Promise you will return with them.”

Thor thankfully realized how shaken she was and agreed to do as she asked.

The next morning she convinced Thor to take James aside and show him the Bifrost so she could talk with Steve. She relayed the same concerns to him that she’d told Thor. Steve sighed and paced the room before admitting he had similar concerns. He told her of an incident two nights prior where Hydra’s creation had taken over and then hesitantly told her of the times it had happened previously.

“Take care, Steve,” she said. “Do not abandon him.”

There was hard steel in his gaze. “You don’t know me well, ma’am, so I’ll explain this to you just this once. He’s my best friend. I love him. I’ve always loved him. I can’t abandon him.”

His words assuaged the fear in her heart though his choice of “can’t” instead of “won’t” was interesting.

“Why do you care?” he asked, defensive.

She held up a placating hand. “Peace, friend. I mean no disrespect. I only wish to help.”

Steve put his hands on his hips and waited for further explanation.

She continued, “I have seen the damage of torture and war, far more than even one such as you. I know the ways people cope. You bury it. I watched you do it last night.” She paced the room as well under Steve’s watchful gaze. “James is not coping. There are two halves to him, two very different halves. Two very different people. When one comes out, the other is tucked away, hidden. James doesn’t bury anything because he doesn’t realize he has something to bury beyond the tiny pieces that have already slipped through. But he will. The damn will break, the halves will merge, and it will be the most difficult trial he’s faced.”

Thor returned with James before she could say any more. Steve buried their conversation. No trace of the sadness or fear remained on his face. He wouldn’t tell James of their conversation, she realized, and she feared that would return to be more damaging than anything.

They made their way to the entrance of the Bifrost, Heimdall nodding to them as Thor asked him to take them to Earth. 

Sif stood atop the platform next the Asgard’s guardian as the three of them disappeared in a flash of light. “Heimdall, would you please watch over them and inform me if anything happens?”

The guardian stared at her a moment before agreeing. “I too am concerned for James Barnes,” he admitted, cutting straight to the heart of her request. 

Now she could only pray they would be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have (hopefully) one final big hurdle to get through. I've tried to make Bucky's recovery as believable as possible, with the return of memories when they're triggered, which hasn't been all that often because there just hasn't been the time, and the appearance of the Winter Soldier occasionally. I don't think Bucky's best served by ignoring what happened to him to the point that he doesn't think about it at all, which is where we're at. Yes, he had nightmares and yes, he feels guilty, cripplingly so, but it's detached from him because he doesn't *really* remember it. Eventually, those two parts-Bucky and the Winter Soldier-need to be reconciled for Bucky to really move forward. So that's what's coming up.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and liking and commenting. Glad y'all have stuck with me so far.


	33. Chapter 33

Rory burst into Tony’s lab, bouncing, bubbling, happy. Everything that Tony wasn’t at the moment. He looked up from his work, a prototype for Bucky’s new arm, and reevaluated. Rory was bouncing with a frantic energy but the circles under her eyes and the droop of her shoulders spoke of a deeper exhaustion. And hell, she should be exhausted. 

Like him, she threw herself into her work because hey, that was easier than facing emotions. And he knew that after the past couple of weeks, the rollercoaster that those had been, she needed to escape from those emotions. It was just coincidence that she spent all her extra energy doing stuff and not sleeping. It had nothing to do with her guilt over what her brother did. Not at all. Tony even tried to ask her about it but she shot him down. Well, then.

On the one hand, she was overseeing the rebuilding of her lab. On the other, she, Bruce, and Natasha were starting to run press and government interference over the events in DC. Really, the press this time was throwing itself into this story with gusto and they were ripping Bucky to shreds. He dreaded having to break that to either of the Captains when they got back.

“You need me for something?” he asked, returning his attention to his work. He could not keep watching her. She’d give him a seizure.

She stopped moving momentarily to inform him that Steve and Bucky were back from Asgard. How much caffeine had that girl had? he wondered. They might actually have to cut her off and insist she get some sleep. The world would be in serious trouble if her control on Extremis slipped.

He followed her out to the helipad. Well, he hobbled after her. His foot would take several weeks to heal according to the bone doctor. The damn boot they had wrapped around his foot prevented any kind of quick movement and God knew he wasn’t going to sneak up on anyone for a while.

As he approached the helipad, he thought Thor really needed a better landing platform than that particular spot. How was Tony going to get helicopters to land on the leftover burn marks of a wormhole opening? He could imagine those conversations now.

Pepper pulled him aside before he stepped outside. “You aren’t going to tell them yet, are you? Let them have a few moments before they have to deal with that.”

He grasped her shoulders, generally a playful gesture from him but at the moment, he wasn’t in a playful mood. “Thor just announced to the world that they’re back. I give it another five minutes before the press are all over us. They gotta know.”

Pepper just nodded. They both knew the whole press thing would not go over well. She left to go prepare as best she could, whatever that entailed.

Steve didn’t look too worse for wear given that he was recovering from a gunshot wound and Bucky—well, that man was on cloud nine. Good for him, Tony thought. Poor kid deserved it. It wasn’t going to last but he’d had a few days off; that was worth something, even if sooner rather than later, they’d have to face the music of the real world.

And Thor? Thor was serious, like always. Possibly concerned. Though what did Thor have to be concerned about? Tony’d have to ask him if that was just his normal face.

“Guess we’re going to have to implement Rory’s naming system now that both of you are back,” he commented lightly, stalling as long as he could.

Bucky groaned and hid his face in his hands. “Don’t you dare.”

Rory giggled, slightly uncontrollably. Really, no more caffeine. Ever.

“Naming system?” Steve asked.

Bucky glared at Rory, daring her to answer. He didn’t try to stop Tony from saying anything.

“Well, we figured since we call you Cap and we started calling him Cap in DC, we needed a way to tell the two of you apart. Rory came up with Cap and Bucky Cap,” Tony informed him, pointed ignoring Bucky as he shifted his glare.

“Bucky Cap?” Steve repeated. He chuckled. “I actually like that.”

Poor Bucky reached a level of done he’d probably never reached before.

Rory hid another almost drunken laugh behind her hand. 

Tony’d had it. “When was the last time you got sleep? A decent night’s sleep?” he asked her.

She took way too long to come up with an answer, any answer. “Probably a week ago?” she finally admitted, shrugging. “I got no earthly idea.”

Tony guided her inside, telling her to just go sleep. Pass out. Hibernate. Something. Anything. If she didn’t soon, she’d be dead on her feet.

And that would just be entertaining.

Bucky watched her stumble toward the elevator. “Is she okay?”

“That,” Tony explained, pointing after her, “is the best evidence I can offer than Extremis isn’t everything. She has not stopped since we got back. Sleep deprivation at its finest.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Problems?”

Tony hesitated. The answer was yes, there were problems. Of-fucking-course there were problems. Anytime the press or the government got involved, there were always problems. But this was some of the worst Tony had dealt with. When Natasha came back fuming, it was bad. “You could say that,” he finally said. 

He motioned the trio inside. “We’ve had Romanoff, Banner, and Callahan running our primary PR campaign.” Natasha had nominated herself and no one argued with her. Rory and Bruce, they needed for their scientific expertise, particularly regarding Bucky, his genetic enhancements, and the effects of Hydra’s brainwashing.

“DC didn’t hurt your bottom line, did it Stark?” Steve was no mood for games it seemed. Bucky glanced at him nervously. 

What had Steve so on edge all of a sudden? What happened in Asgard? And why did Bucky seem out of the loop?

Tony rolled his eyes. He had no time for his and Steve’s issues to come up off the backburner. “My bottom line is untouchable, Rogers. Besides, do you really think Romanoff would spare me a second glance if my bottom line had taken a hit?” He shook his head. “No, it seems our illustrious government is a tad bit pissed at the destruction of the Air and Space Museum and…uh,” he turned to Bucky, “well, at the President offering an unconditional pardon to you. The press is having a field day.”

He pressed a button on the console, which was thankfully right next to the bar. If Steve and Bucky reacted to what he was about to show them the way he expected them to, he was going to need a stiff drink. 

Maybe he’d need several.

“What are you saying?” Bucky asked quietly, the bubble bursting.

Tony inhaled and decided he’d go ahead and fix a drink. “I’m saying we’re dealing with hyenas and vultures. And they’re not playing nice.”

“When does the press ever play nice, Stark?” Natasha strode across the room over to the bar. “They lashed out after New York, then again after the helicarrier incident. Did you think this would be any different?”

No, he didn’t, he wanted to snap. He was self-obsessed, not stupid. He’d hoped, though. Hoped that the government would lay off once President Ellis put them in their place. Hoped the press wouldn’t get wind of what had transpired, wouldn’t run with it, sink their teeth in it, and really, Tony, that was the stupidest hope in the universe.

Natasha continued, not caring whether or not Tony answered her. “Having two top-of-their-field scientists have your back, though, has been surprisingly effective.” She fiddled with the display, opening a series of files, overlapping news reports and tabloid headlines flashed up.

Tony had seen everything. J.A.R.V.I.S. monitored the internet for new reports, for anybody talking about DC or Bucky or the Winter Soldier. He only caught certain words. “Monster.” “Menace.” “Threat to society.” But those were intermixed with “hero,” “victim,” “friend.” There was general confusion about the appearance of a second Captain America. Where was Steve Rogers? Was he dead? Had Barnes killed him? Why were the Avengers doing nothing about that? So on and so forth. The general public was pretty split but there was starting to be a shift toward the positive.

They had Rory to thank for that.

Rory had handled most of the press releases thus far, Bruce acting as her wingman. Tony’d found it funny because if anyone pissed them off, they’d level whole buildings. 

The cacophony of information slowed to one video, the best in Tony’s opinion. One of the reporters from a major broadcasting network, Tony forgot which one, kept trying to twist Rory’s words as she calmly explained Bucky’s situation until finally Rory just snapped, “Would you just stop saying words? Everything that’s coming out of your mouth is not only wrong, it’s misinformed and stupid.” That whole interview was worth watching just for that. 

Truly brilliant. Inspired.

Silence descended on the room after the playback cut off. Tony took a long gulp of good Jack Daniels whiskey and waited for the shitstorm to start.

Thor crossed his arms, scowling silently. Something was definitely eating at him.

Neither Steve nor Bucky moved initially, both frozen in shock and horror, until Bucky, without warning, stormed out of the room.

Natasha shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll go get Sam.” She fled the room.

Tony looked from Thor to Steve. “Would someone care to explain what the hell just happened?”

“A problem,” Steve said as he found a chair and crumbled into it.

When he wasn’t any more forthcoming, Tony asked, “Care to clarify what type of problem exactly? Because we obviously have quite a few around here.”

“James’ mind is in turmoil,” Thor started.

Steve looked up. “Not yet. But it’s starting to be and I don’t know how unpredictable he’ll be now that his mind is trying to heal.”

“I thought he’d already been doing that. He’s remembered stuff, a bunch of stuff,” Tony said.

Steve leaned forward in the chair. “He has been. Kind of.” He looked to Thor for help. 

“A lot of James’ memories are still locked away,” Thor explained. “He has seen the damage he caused through second hand sources but he himself does not remember committing the acts. Those and other memories will start to seep into his conscious mind as he heals.”

“That won’t be healing,” Tony countered. ‘That’ll be a train wreck. Does he know about this? Please tell me he knows.”

Thor and Steve exchanged a look.

Oh.

Well, shit.

Tony crossed his arms. “He’s gonna go postal. You know that right?” He took another swig of whiskey. “Why aren’t you telling him?”

No answer.

Oh, he needed air. “Look, if you’re planning on staying here with a time bomb, under my roof, you better have a damn good explanation for why you’re not diffusing it!” He pointed an accusing finger at Steve before he followed Bucky’s example and stormed out of the room. “Figure it out, Rogers. For his sake.”

“Why do you care, Stark?” Steve asked. “You and I haven’t exactly seen eye to eye.”

Tony paused. It was an honestly good question. “Because he saved my life, you know? Because I was there when we woke him out of cryo in that Hydra base and I saw how much thinking you were about to die just broke him. He’s a good kid, Rogers. He doesn’t deserve what’s about to happen to him.”

The more Tony thought about it, the more he believed those words. He could blame the kid for his parents’ death, had for a time, but that was dumb so he stopped doing it. After everything he’d seen the kid face, he was kind of pulling for him.

Steve must have seen the truth in what Tony said because he said little else, letting Tony return to his lab. Thor was by his side, offering comfort and advice. Apparently, he’d had a good reason for concern after all.

Tony thought, as he picked up his work on Bucky’s new arm, that they’d have a couple of days to get both Steve and Bucky accustomed to the paparazzi onslaught.

Then the nightmares started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're digging into the final arc. It might be a bumpy ride so bear with me.
> 
> Thanks everyone for reading, liking, commenting, the whole shebang. Y'all are the best.


	34. Chapter 34

The Asset stood in the middle of the bridge, letting cars swerve around it. They didn’t matter. All that mattered were the targets. Three of them, with one civilian, soon to be a casualty. His handler wanted them dead. They threatened the mission. They had to die.

It ripped one out through a window and hurled him into oncoming traffic. The Asset didn’t have to look to know its first target would not be walking away.

Two targets left. The civilian was collateral damage. He chose the wrong people to associate with. There was no sympathy, no remorse for him. For the Asset, there was only the mission.

A Hummer rammed into the targets’ car, forcing it forward. The Asset pounced onto the car, slinging itself easily onto the roof. 

Stop the car. Had to stop the car.

Easily done.

It ripped out the steering wheel.

If they lost control, that worked.

It had worked before. 

No mess, no fuss. The Asset didn’t have to get its hands dirty. Accidents happened all the time or so it’d been told.

But the targets hadn’t gone down easy. They put up a fight like most of its targets did. At least, that’s what it remembered. Most of its targets, however, didn’t put up this level of resistance. These targets were very different.

That infuriated the Asset.

Die already was the only thought that echoed over and over in that empty mind.

Then the female target shot it. She seemed eerily familiar, from her hair to her frankly annoying ability to get in the way. 

She’d be taken care of first.

When the Asset came for her, she ran. They always ran. She was fast like so many others. But it didn’t matter. It always caught up. The Asset never failed a mission.

The Asset’s other target, the man, derailed that. The female target had been right there. It was furious at this target for letting its first one escape and it lashed out with anything in its arsenal it could. Guns, knives, fists.

The man fought like no other target had. He was fast and strong. Determined. Slightly more than human. Slightly more than familiar.

Then he ripped the mask off. 

The Asset felt exposed. It whirled to face its target, expecting another round of quick jabs and punches. 

But the man didn’t move. There was emotion on his face, emotions the Asset couldn’t identify because it didn’t know them.

“Bucky?”

Bucky? 

Not Bucky, the Asset thought. It didn’t have a name. They never called it by name.

Bucky. 

The name echoed in the Asset’s head, pinging around the emptiness.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” it bit back, thoroughly turned around. Why was the man calling him that? Something inside him wanted to—no, needed to know.

The man’s face fell. An easy target.

Never mind the screaming coming from a new part of the Asset’s brain, one that hadn’t made noise in a long time. Screaming, pounding. Frightened.

Bucky.

The Asset leveled a gun at his target. Take him out then go for the woman.

Bucky screamed but had no control.

The impact of heavy boots— 

Mission failed. Mission failed.

“Bucky?”

Someone was calling for him, a difference voice echoing. Not his. Not his.

“Bucky!”

More desperate.

“Come on, wake up!”

Bucky’s eyes snapped open. The same man he’d tried to kill was staring down at him, concerned, scared. He’d failed his mission. His handlers would be furious. They depended on him to get the job done and for once, he’d let them down. They’d freeze him for this.

The man shushed him. “It’s okay, Buck. You just had a nightmare.”

That wasn’t a nightmare. That had been real, so real.

What was his name? Bucky panicked. Why could he not remember the man’s name? He knew the man would be so upset that he couldn’t remember.

His chest tightened and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. His heart raced like he was running, always running. The room was constricting, the walls closing in on him.

“Bucky, I need you to slow your breathing down. Can you do that for me?” the man asked, holding a hand out as if to reach out and comfort him.

He did what the man asked because he knew he could trust him. As the sudde n onset of panic faded, his brain fully woke up, filling in the gaps that had caused the panic in the first place.

Steve. He remembered. Everything came flooding back, all the horrible, gritty details.

And Steve. His shoulders slumped and he sighed deeply, his breath coming out shaky. He looked up at Steve. The man on the bridge was what he’d called him. 

Even then, Bucky had known him. 

And he’d almost killed him.

He’d moved past this already, dealt with that guilt. Hadn’t he?

Steve’s voice cut into his thoughts. “You able to walk, Buck?”

Bucky nodded and let Steve help him out of the bed and into the kitchen. Putting one foot in front of the other was about as complex a task as he could manage. Why had he dreamed about the bridge? That part of his time with Hydra he remembered.

Except this had been different. He just didn’t want to focus on how.

Steve poured him a glass of water and sat at the bar next to him. ‘Wanna talk about it?”

“It was the bridge,” Bucky stated simply, downing the contents of the glass.

Steve spoke so quietly Bucky could hardly hear him. “You were screaming.” 

“I was reliving trying to kill you,” Bucky snapped. ‘Can you blame me?”

Steve shook his head. “Never said I did.”

Bucky couldn’t think of anything else to say so they sat there under the harsh fluorescent lighting, close but not touching.

***

Bucky convinced Steve he would be okay just to get some alone time. Still shaken from the nightmare, Bucky found his way to the exercise facility down a couple of floors from Steve’s suite. From what he could tell, it hadn’t always been a gym. It looked like a room designed to handle large weapons’ fire.

He saw Rory in one corner, laying into a punching bag for all she was worth. Every couple of punches or so sparked. Maybe with these people, an exercise facility had to be able to withstand large weapons’ fire.

“Has anyone shown you how to properly use that?” he asked her.

She didn’t bother turning around. “What do you think?”

Bucky walked over, a smirk playing on his lips. He was determined to forget the nightmare. “Well, you hitting the bag with the wrong part of your hand so…”

She landed a punch with such ferocity that the bag went flying into the wall. She brushed her hands together. “I don’t think it matters. Do you?”

“Extremis?”

She nodded and hoisted another punching bag up. Just by looking at her, there was no way she should be able to lift that. So there was super strength floating around her bloodstream in addition to the rapid healing.

“Can I at least show you how to hit it properly so you don’t break any bones? Not-“ he held his hands up –“like it matters to you.”

She shrugged. “Good point.”

He spent about an hour helping her with her form until something in the way he corrected her stance triggered a flashback.

Memories flooded his mind and he knew he’d done this before. Training people. Perfecting their ability to kill just as he had. He couldn’t even keep their faces straight as they flashed in rapid succession. How many had there been? That hadn’t been in any of the records. No video, nothing written. What else had Hydra made him do that they’d then made him forget?

Rory’s voice echoed dimly through the memories. 

He tried to focus on her and realized he was on the ground with her crouched beside him.

“You okay?”

In that instant, he couldn’t handle her concern. It felt too much like prying. It felt too much like Steve’s concern. He couldn’t tell her what he’d just remembered. He couldn’t tell anyone. So instead of talking through it, he bottled it up. “I’m fine,” he assured her, getting to his feet. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Well, we all know that feeling,” she replied easily. “I come down here just to wear myself enough to sleep.”

“You didn’t when Stark told you to?”

She pursed her lips. “Stark’s my boss, not my mother. Besides, I was still working on stuff.” She motioned to the door. “Now, I’m going to sleep and if I’m damn lucky, I’ll sleep the whole fucking day away.” Her exit bordered on the dramatic but he was thankful she was gone.

The punching bag still hung where they’d left it. He destroyed it, punching it over and over with both fists, skin and metal.

Punch.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

Punch.

“Your work has been a gift to mankind.”

Punch.

He cut the brakes on Howard Stark’s car.

Punch.

Watched the car veer out of control.

Punch.

Reported back mission accomplished. Target down.

Punch.

Civilian casualties: 3. Included Maria Stark.

Punch.

Memories of Howard Stark from before.

Punch.

“Wipe him.”

Punch.

Back on ice.

Punch.

The bag flew against the back wall. The times he could remember being put into cryo, he’d been awake, desperate, terrified, as the ice engulfed him, shut him down. A machine with an on/off switch.

What the hell was happening to him?

Why was he remembering things, in vivid detail, now?

He really thought he had finally come to grips with everything from his past, thought he had moved on, thought he was better. He knew he’d killed a lot of people, good people, innocent people. He knew he’d killed Tony’s parents. It wasn’t something he truly remembered but he’d seen footage. You couldn’t argue with that kind of evidence. 

A nagging doubt dug its heels in his head. There was a difference between knowing and remembering though, wasn’t there?

He remembered trying to kill Steve. Both times. Until now, he hadn’t remembered a damn thing about assassinating Stark.

But Tony had forgiven him for it and he tried to assuage the guilt he felt with the knowledge he’d saved Tony’s life.

It wasn’t working.

Sam said you’d have bad days, he told himself. Deep down though, he knew this wasn’t just a bad day. This was something else entirely.

He left the exercise facility, not noticing that, while he had been punching, he hadn’t been punching the bag for a good while. There was a hole in the wall, a wall designed to contain the Hulk’s rage, about a foot wide and half a foot deep. Bucky’s hands weren’t even torn up and he hadn’t broken a sweat.

***

Tony slid the soldering iron back into its holder when J.A.R.V.I.S. called for him. 

“Sir, there is something online you should see.”

Bruce slid his chair from behind a console display. “This about Barnes?” he asked the AI.

“Yes, sir,” he answered simply.

Tony sighed. This could not be good. “Show us.”

The air shimmered in front of him and coalesced into a news report from CNN, a clipped female voice talking over a gruesome video from the seventies, if Tony knew his cameras right, of the Winter Soldier using an attack on civilians to assassinate someone Tony didn’t recognize. 

“As you can see,” the voice said, “James Barnes, the so called Winter Soldier, used brutal tactics to achieve his goals.”

Two more videos played of similar situations, one from the sixties and one from the eighties. Tony hadn’t seen these before and he thought he had seen everything that was on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s files. Apparently, that was an incorrect assumption.

Another voice, a male reporter, asked, “Shannon, do you think we should be concerned about what this man has done?”

“Absolutely. I think we should be concerned and I think it would be stupid not to be concerned about what he’s still capable of. The man is dangerous, a menace to society. He should be locked up, not lauded for his actions in recent weeks.”

They went on to talk about his involvement in the attack on freeway in DC and the helicarrier incident, using those as further evidence for why Barnes should be considered dangerous.

Oh, these people were starting to get on his nerves. It was a disservice to his parents’ memory, to any of the Winter Soldier’s victims’ memory, to say that Barnes killed them. He didn’t. Hydra did. Why could these people not get it through their dumb, thick skulls?

“Where did they get those videos, Tony?” Bruce asked, after he shut the feed off.

Another good question.

Tony stared at the now blank screen. “I have no idea but I have an idea of who to ask. Why don’t you go get Rory and Romanoff? I think you’re gonna be busy today.” He knew he needed to talk to Steve and Bucky but first, he had a phone call to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of meh about this chapter. But it's out and done. Yippee.
> 
> Guess who's about to make an entrance though? 
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading, liking and commenting. Means the world to me :)


	35. Chapter 35

“Stark, how on earth did you get this number?” Nick Fury, former director of S.H.I.E.L.D. snapped, his voice coming through the phone loud and clear.

Tony flinched from the receiver. “Gosh, Fury, it sounds like you’re not happy to hear from me,” he replied when he was brave enough to put his ear back to the phone.

“I’m never happy to hear from you, Stark,” Fury retorted. “So I’ll ask again. How did you get this number?”

Tony laughed harshly. “Well, you see, when a super soldier’s boyfriend is being attacked by the press with videos I’m pretty sure S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t release in the first place, certain people get concerned. It wasn’t hard to convince Romanoff to rat you out.”

Fury didn’t reply right away and Tony almost feared the director had hung up on him.

“I saw CNN’s report,” Fury said finally. “Those files were on a separate server, Stark. Romanoff didn’t release them to the public alongside the rest of our data.”

Tony suppressed the urge to throw something. He had already figured that. “So how did they get out? And more importantly, how did news stations get them?”

“I released them, Stark. S.H.I.E.L.D. needs to be held accountable for the things it did. Hydra needs to be held accountable. Especially after the attack on DC. You have to understand that.”

On that, Tony had to agree. However… “And what about Barnes? Did he need to be held accountable for his actions?”

He heard Fury sigh. “Barnes is an unfortunate casualty, Stark. I never intended for those files to be used like this.”

Of all the stupid, pointless excuses. “Yeah, well, they are. And let me tell you, they’re doing a hell of a job destroying Barnes’ frankly fragile mental health.”

Tony swore he could see Fury leaning back in whatever chair he was sitting in, thinking, weighing his options, sizing up his opponent. Really, every conversation with Fury ended up being a boxing match. A battle of wills. “You seem awfully concerned for the well-being of the man who murdered your parents.”

“That’s not the issue, Fury, and you know it,” Tony snapped back. “You wanted S.H.I.E.L.D. to be held accountable? How about you accept some damn responsibility for what’s happening to Barnes because of your actions?”

“I didn’t string him up like a strand of Christmas lights, Stark, and I really hope you’re not implying that I did.”

Tony rubbed a hand across his face. This conversation was going nowhere and all Fury was doing was pissing him off. “No, I’m actually implying, very not subtly, that you threw him to the wolves. Seventy years of brainwashing and this is what happens? I mean, I could expect this kind of thing from Hydra. Not from you.”

Fury started to say something but Tony couldn’t stand to hear anything else the man had to say. He ended the call and, just like Walter from Jeff Dunham’s standup, he felt a disturbance in the Force. He’d pay for that at some point. Fury was not the kind of man you pissed off lightly.

“You wanted to see me, Stark?” Steve spoke from the doorway.

Tony looked up from his phone, squashing the urge to crush it. “Yeah, I did, Rogers. Come on in.”

Steve nodded to Tony’s hand where he was still white knuckling the cell phone. “Rough phone call?”

Tony took a couple of cleansing breaths. “You could say that.”

“More press stuff?” Steve seemed resigned to the fact.

“Yes and no.” He walked around the console. “I probably now have a kill order out on me. I just hung up on Director Fury.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Why were you on the phone with Fury?” He shook his head. “Better question- how did you even know how to find him?”

“Romanoff.” Quick, simple, easy answer. “As for why…” Tony called up the news report. Since he’d already seen it, he let himself watch Steve’s reactions. The man had a brilliant poker face but there were enough twitches to let Tony know the report got under Steve’s skin. 

“Where did those come from?” Steve asked.

Tony shut the console down. “That’s why I called Fury. To find out.”

“I’m not going to like the answer, am I?”

“Nope,” Tony assured him. “Because Fury was the one who released those videos.” And he saw Steve’s vision go red. If ever there was a time to use the expression “there will be blood,” it was now. “Before you getting all huffy-“

“Wait,” Steve interrupted. ‘You said you hung up on him.” It wasn’t a question per se but Tony took it as one.

“Damn right, I hung up on him. He was pissing me off.” Steve just stared at him. “You got something to say, Rogers? Say it now or forever hold your peace.”

He crossed his arms. “Just answer me this, Stark. Why?” 

“Why what?”

“Why are you so keen to help us? Me and Bucky? If I remember right, you haven’t exactly been my biggest fan.”

And wasn’t that the understatement of the year? Tony would be the first to admit that he had despised Steve at first, more than he could ever have despised Bucky. Steve had taken his father from him in a way that was somehow way worse than how Bucky had taken him. When he’d snapped at Steve, accusing him that everything special about him came out of a bottle, yes it had been a spur of the moment, everyone’s blood was up, kind of comment, but he’d meant it. It was something he truly believed about the man his dad never shut up about.

But there was nothing experimental about a man willing to put his own health and safety on the line for someone he loved. It couldn’t be created in a test tube. That came from being human. Tony had been wrong and while he’d never admit it, he would try to set things right the way he knew how. By his actions.

“Already answered that, Rogers,” Tony pointed out. And he had. Steve had asked him just the day before why Tony was so gung-ho to help. Their conversations were turning into a broken record. Was it seriously that hard to believe that Tony cared for anyone’s well being other than his own? “You wanna know why? Because a person shouldn’t be defined by his past or by his mistakes. I’ve been there. It’s not fun. Does ‘Merchant of Death’ ring any bells? The massacre at Gulmira? Yeah, my mistakes. My father’s mistakes.” Tony walked past Dum-E, who followed him with a fire extinguisher. “Don’t you dare,” he told the robot.

Dum-E hung its head in shame.

“Yeah, you know what you did.”

The gears whirred so sadly that Tony swore the robot had legitimate feelings.

He returned to his workbench and resumed his soldering. “Really, Steve, the kid deserves a chance to live a life free from Hydra and the damn press just isn’t letting him do that. You might not think much of a lot of us, but we stand by our own.”

As if to prove his point, Rory burst into the lab. “Natasha said there was another report?”

Tony sent her to a console that wouldn’t play the video publically. Steve shouldn’t have to watch it again. He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if the press turned on Pepper the way some of them were turning on Bucky. It had to be hell.

When she finished, she made her way back to his workstation. “Tony?” she asked, in a tone of voice he usually heard from Pepper when he’d done something really not good. 

He almost feared checking her reaction so he replied while he worked. “Yes, Dr. Callahan?” he replied with the same level of snark.

“Mother may I?” She paired her words with a predatory grin and he knew what she was asking. Tony felt no sympathy for the poor reporters she was about to rip to shreds. 

And he was all too keen to help her. He looked to Steve. “Rogers, can she use footage of what Hydra did to Barnes so we can shut these assholes up?”

Steve fidgeted. “You should ask Bucky. I don’t think it’s my place to give that kind of permission.”

Tony saw the pent up anger and frustration drop away, leaving behind only the quiet turning of the gears in her head. “Will you come with me then? I wanna get the jump on these guys as soon as I can.” To Tony, she said, “When I get back, you and Natasha need to help me write up what I’m gonna say. I’ve had it up to here-“ she leveled her hand by her head to emphasis her point- “with this.”

Tony waved her off. “Of course, whatever you say, boss.” 

She rolled her eyes and followed Steve out of the lab.

He regretted sending her off to talk to Bucky when J.A.R.V.I.S. sent out a building wide emergency to Steve’s suite moments later.

By the time Tony arrived at Steve’s suite, Sam, Bruce, and Hill were already there. Sam wouldn’t let him inside. “Bucky doesn’t need a lot of people around him right now.”

Bad. That was very bad. “What happened?”

“He saw the news report, Stark,” Sam snapped. “He punched a hole through the television.”

Part of Tony’s brain logically thought “Shit.” Part of his brain was already calculating how he’d have to refurbish the suite to super-solider-proof it if Bucky would be living there more permanently. He had to multitask to keep from going nuts.

“Are Rory and Rogers in there?”

Sam glanced over his shoulder, listening for any sounds of distress. “They got here right as the report came on.”

“How did in the world did he manage to find that?” Tony wondered out loud. So many variables had to fall in exactly the right place for him to have seen it.

Sam shrugged. “Our luck sucks? I don’t know, man. I got nothing.” He leaned against the wall. “Please tell me we’re gonna do something about all this press coverage. What we’ve done so far hasn’t done jack.”

Tony peeked inside and saw Steve on the floor in front of Bucky. Rory stood a short distance away, her arms crossed over her chest. The flat screen TV had a huge hole through it. So did the wall behind it. “Yeah,” he told Sam as Natasha arrived, with Pepper, Clint and Thor in tow. “Yeah, we’re gonna do something about it.”

***

Steve addressed Rory without taking his eyes off Bucky. “Do whatever you have to to stop this, okay?” For Bucky’s sake, this had to end. Yesterday, if at all possible. 

“You know I’ll do my best, Cap,” she assured him. Looking from him to Bucky, she asked, “You guys gonna be all right?” 

Bucky wasn’t moving from where he’d ended up on the floor. His eyes focused on something only he could see, just off in the distance. Steve wasn’t sure if Bucky was going to be all right. He didn’t know what was going through Bucky’s mind. “We’ll manage,” he said.

She didn’t buy it but they both knew there was nothing she could do aside from dealing with the press. Her brother had been the psychologist, not her.

Loath as she was to leave, she had no real reason to stay. As she left the room, she passed them by. Steve nodded to her but Bucky reached out and grabbed her arm.

The look Bucky gave her was one Steve had seen on him only once before and couldn’t bear to see again. It was the same panic and confusion Steve had seen when Bucky was trapped under the steel beam on the helicarrier. He hadn’t been in control of his life then and now, it was happening again.

Rory squeezed Bucky’s hand, gave him the closest she could get to an encouraging smile, and strode to the door.

Steve called after her. “Good luck.”

She heaved the door open. “Won’t need luck, Cap. When I’m done, all I’ll need is a lawyer.”

When she was gone, Steve helped Bucky onto the sofa and cleaned up the broken glass and sheetrock. Every few seconds, he glanced back to see if Bucky had moved. Nothing.

Bucky had retreated into himself, a complete reversal of how he’d been on Asgard. Steve feared that once Bucky remembered everything, the old Bucky would be lost and gone forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more into the breach, my dear readers.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, liking, commenting. Thanks for sticking with me this long. You guys are brilliant, wonderful, etc. etc. and really make this whole process worthwhile.


	36. Chapter 36

Natasha hated flying. Never mind that she didn’t have to push and shove her way through the endless throngs of people at LaGuardia or at the Atlanta airport because she had access to Stark’s private jet. She still hated it. Two and a half hours of being jammed into a metal tube with two of the most volatile people on the planet was not her idea of a stellar time. Bruce and Rory, though she considered them friends, were dangerous when they were in the mood they were currently in. 

Then again, so was she.

Laying out a plan of attack for when they landed though, that she did enjoy. She almost enjoyed it enough to forget she was on a plane. Through the uplink to Stark’s server, they examined anything from Hydra on how they changed Bucky into the Winter Soldier. Focusing on how they were trying to protect Bucky only made watching those videos and going through those files slightly easier.

By the time the wheels scraped against the runway under the bright Southern sun, they were ready to face the big wigs at CNN. And they were good and pissed.

The three of them were dressed to kill. Natasha knew that sometimes a first impression was the best first move when dealing with people like this. The receptionist, a terribly bland young lady, directed them to a waiting area. They were then ushered into a room with a large wooden, very official looking table. Already, several men and women were sitting around the table and Natasha couldn’t decide if they were bored or angry or both.

Joy. The rest of the day was going to go so well.

But Rory had everything in hand. Natasha was surprised but the scientist had taken to her new role in true waterfowl fashion.

“Can we please get this meeting started?” one of the fat cats in a suit that cost more than all of Stark’s science gear combined asked. “I have another meeting I have to get to.”

Rory slid into one of the leather chairs, spinning it around so she faced the table. “Sir, this is the most important meeting on your schedule today so please treat it as such. And let us do most of the talking.” 

Natasha and Bruce silently followed suit, laying their files on the table in front of them. Natasha removed her laptop from her bag.

The man opened his mouth but Rory cut him off. “Please don’t. The less you talk back to us, the less time this will take.”

Natasha opened the laptop and connected it to the building’s server. “Shall we get started?” She opened the file of videos they had chosen specifically for this meeting. How they’d get through watching them again, she had no idea. Watching them on the plane hadn’t done any of them any favors.

“What is this meeting supposed to achieve?” the reporter named Shannon asked.

“Well, for starters,” Rory began, “I want you to recant everything you said about Sergeant Barnes in your report two days ago.”

She scoffed. “I will do no such thing. The public needs to be aware of the monster you’ve let loose on the streets.”

“Barnes is not a monster,” Bruce corrected, fiddling with his glasses. “He’s a human being and he’s endured a lot more over the past century than you could imagine.”

Shannon barked out a disbelieving laugh. “You expect me to believe that Hydra captured and tortured Barnes into assassinating people? Please, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Natasha sucked in a breath.

“Would a monster do this?” Rory asked as she pulled up the first video, dimming the lights. They had decided on a chronological approach so the first video was very early on in Bucky’s incarceration.

A harsh, male voice spoke over the beginning snow and static. The picture resolved into a bunker with a solitary hospital slab in the center. “This marks the beginning of the Winter Soldier program. Subject will be revived after surgery to replace severed limb with cybernetic prosthetic.”

Two technicians came into the field of the camera where Bucky was laid out on the slab. The skin around the prosthetic was red and raw. They stabbed him with a syringe and injected the material into his good arm. Within seconds, Bucky came to and held his hands up in front of him, horror crossing his face. He reached for one of the technicians with his new prosthetic arm and strangled him. The remaining technician panicked and injected Bucky with another substance to sedate him.

The same voice spoke. “First attempt to revive subject revealed volatile nature. Further action recommended to shape subject into a suitable asset for Hydra.”

Natasha ended that video and started another. This one was recorded a few months after the first. They did not spare the executives and reporters at CNN from the torture that lasted over a year. They didn’t spare them from seeing Hydra’s agents from beating Bucky to a pulp. Drugging him. Putting him on ice. The worst, for Natasha, was the psychological torture.

Video after video they showed of Bucky in a cell being interviewed by a bodiless voice. For the first few, he kept reciting his rank and serial number. Over and over. The way she knew he had been when Steve had rescued him the first time. The poor man thought Steve would swoop in and do it again, unaware Steve was buried under an ice shelf and would be for the next seventy years.

Hydra used that against him. They taunted him with Steve’s death, telling him Steve would never come for him again. They dug into Bucky’s mind, where the unnamed, buried love he felt for Steve was hiding and they pulled it out and ripped it to shreds. Bucky spent those night curled up and sobbing but they wouldn’t let him sleep, keeping blaring lights on all the time.

Once they’d broken that part of his spirit, they moved to complete dehumanization, telling him he wasn’t who he thought he was, invalidating his memories. Torture would follow anytime Bucky fought back.

Then came the electroshock treatments to wipe whatever was left.

He fought over a year. He fought hard, so hard. Natasha couldn’t believe they were having to bare Bucky’s soul in front of complete strangers in order to make them shut up but such was life.

When the last video ended, the lights brightened and Natasha looked around the room. Every face she saw was shell shocked, a small fraction of the horror Bucky faced reflected back at her.

“I-I-I had no idea,” Shannon stuttered. “How long did that go on for?”

Rory shuffled her stack of papers. “The initial wiping lasted approximately sixteen months, followed by occasional electroshock wiping after each mission. When Hydra had no need for him, they kept him on ice. It partially explains his amazingly slow aging.”

“The same way Captain Rogers survived his seventy years in the ice?” the man who first spoke when they arrived asked.

Rory looked to Bruce. Bruce picked up the explanation. “Yes and no. Cryogenic freezing can slow the aging process but the serum used on Captain Rogers was also used, in a much coarser form, on Sergeant Barnes.”

Natasha folded her hands together. “Based on how you’ve reacted to what we’ve shown you, will you recant your previous report and issue a new one?”

“Of course not,” another executive snapped. “What we’ve already reported is our stance on the matter.”

Next to Natasha, Rory growled, low and dangerous. She placed a hand on Rory’s arm to calm her down. “Let me explain something to you, sir. This has been a negotiation up until now.”

“And what is it now, Ms. Romanoff?”

“Decidedly not a negotiation,” Rory affirmed, letting her eyes glow. “See the problem we have is this. Your report, along with quite a few others, is painting quite the erroneous picture of a man we all care about. That leaves you with a couple of options. You can either voluntarily recant your report or we will rain unholy fire on your heads.”

“Is that a threat, Miss Callahan?” the executive demanded.

“It’s doctor, not miss. And no, sir. I don’t threaten. I promise.” She smiled the way she would at a Hydra agent. 

Shannon spoke up. “Excuse me, sir, but this was partially my report and after seeing the evidence presented today, I wish to recant the report and issue a new one.”

“That’s not how this works and you know it.”

She leaned back in her chair. “Well then, I’ll go to another company who will take my new report. I cannot sit on my ass and let what I said do additional damage to this man.” She nodded to Rory, then to Natasha. “I made a grave mistake letting you talk me into that report to begin with.”

The executives glared at the four of them. “Fine. Wait outside and we will give our decision within the hour.”

Bruce sighed and went to grab a cup of coffee, leaving Natasha and Rory to pass the time with Shannon.

Shannon immediately apologized to them. “I can’t believe I reported on that. They never ever showed me any of those other tapes.”

“You ever hear of investigative journalism, Shannon?” Rory snapped. “Maybe you should have tried doing a little of that first before you completely went off on Barnes, yeah?”

The reporter sank onto bench beside them. “I know, I know. But sometimes the people above you pull strings that you can’t break.”

Natasha laughed. “You can break them. You can always break them. Things get messy afterward but there’s no string you can’t break.” She was an expert at breaking strings. Forming them, too.

“Yes, well, breaking strings here could get me fired.”

“Doesn’t seem like that would be a bad thing,” Rory grumbled, drawing a laugh from both Shannon and Natasha. She spread her arms. “What? We’re all thinking it. I’m just saying it.”

Bruce returned with two large cups of coffee, one of which he was already halfway through.

And they waited.

They were called in over three hours later and Natasha was ready to kill someone.

“After careful consideration,” the head executive—Natasha didn’t even bother remembering his name—said, “we have decided not to recant our original report. Shannon, if you even think about trying to overrule this decision, you’ll be on the street so fast, your head will swim.”

That was the reaction Natasha was expecting. The waiting was just to screw with them. Rory and Bruce seemed to be in on that fact as well. Time for plan B.

She pulled out her phone and punched in a code, signaling J.A.R.V.I.S. to override the security in the building, effectively locking them in the room. Bruce wasn’t meant to Hulk out. That was a liability and a lawsuit they did not need. Rory, though, was much more in control and she could terrify most anyone if she set her mind to it.

Natasha motioned Bruce back and she and Rory went to work. As it turned out news station executives were not as tough as Hydra agents. They broke very, very easily and neither woman laid a finger on them. Rory spent most of the conversation in their faces, on fire.

She wished she could have recorded Rory shouting at one of them to sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up. The stunned silence in the room was a thing of beauty.

Finally, they caved and let Shannon run her new piece while fully recanting her old report. The rest of the afternoon was spent in careful deliberations about the new report Shannon was going to give. She took the information they’d given her over the course of the day and, with their help, crafted something that discredited the previous report while finally giving Bucky the representation he needed.

No, this was something he deserved. To finally not be vilified.

Natasha made sure they stayed until the report was written, filmed, and aired before they even thought of leaving.

They collapsed into their seats on the plane a full twenty-four hours. Bruce handed his file to Natasha. “That went surprisingly better than expected.”

She scoffed. “You call a thirteen hour fight with those vultures ‘better than expected’?”

“Well, no one left the meeting in a body bag and we didn’t get arrested.”

She had to admit he had a valid point. As the earth flew by beneath them, she thought to what was waiting for them back in New York and found herself wishing they could have spent a little longer in Atlanta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading, liking, and commenting. It means the world to me. You guys have no idea.
> 
> I don't know if I'll be posting as frequently from here on out. Having a lot of problems with the whole moving process and finding me a place to live for when I start school in less than two months. Needless to say I'm really stressed about it.


	37. Chapter 37

Steve turned the television, a replacement for the one Bucky put his fist through, off, the image disappearing into black as if sucked into a vacuum. Although he had complete faith in Natasha and the others in getting the press to back off, it felt good to finally see a result. An actual result, not the generalized support they’d gotten from earlier reports. The reporter, Shannon, seemed truly shaken by whatever they had shown her and her report and subsequent apology, directed to both Steve and Bucky, was genuine.

He got up from the sofa to find Bucky and share the good news. 

Bucky wasn’t in the kitchen, one of his normal haunts, or in the room Stark was starting to redesign for him. He was in Steve’s room, sitting on the edge of Steve’s bed, propped against the headboard, with his knees tucked to his chest. He was shivering, bad enough Steve could see it from the door.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said softly. “They did it. They got the report recanted.” He sat on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. 

Bucky didn’t reply.

“Bucky?” Steve tried again.

For a moment, Bucky kept his eyes on the floor, as if he was afraid to look Steve in the eye. “Steve,” he said, his voice a mix of fear, like he thought Steve would disappear, and bewilderment. “I’m so cold.” 

Steve scooted closer to him. The bed creaked as he moved. He laid a hand on Bucky’s knee, afraid to push any farther. Since Bucky had started remembering, Steve didn’t quite know how to act around him. What would set Bucky off and what wouldn’t. What would scare him. He couldn’t bear to scare Bucky, not in the state he was in.

Bucky grabbed his hand and leaned over to rest his head against their hands.

As gently as he could, Steve ran his other hand through Bucky’s hair, telling him over and over that he was right there and he wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t say it was okay because it wasn’t. 

Bucky still shook. 

“You gotta be the strong one, man,” a voice sounding a lot like Sam whispered. “You can do it.”

Strangely enough, Steve believed he could. “Hey, come ‘ere.”

Bucky didn’t move so Steve crawled up to the head of the bed to sit beside him. He slung an arm over Bucky’s shoulders and pulled him close, hoping some of his body heat would help warm Bucky up.

“You’re still a furnace, you know that?” Bucky muttered, drawing a smile to Steve’s face.

“That’s what I was hopin’ for.” He rested his head against Bucky’s. “Remember that night in Belgium when it got so cold? You were shivering so bad you couldn’t get a word out.”

He felt Bucky shift beside him. “I don’t think I do,” Bucky whispered. “I know it happened but I can’t remember it.” He curled up over his knees, letting his arms drape across them. “But I remember that shack you used to live in. How it couldn’t keep in heat.”

“And you had to be the furnace because I could never stay warm and that damn wood heater wasn’t worth the space it took up?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah.”

Steve smiled at the memory of them cooped up in the wooden shanty with all those cracks. When the wind blew just right, it had felt like the walls weren’t even there. Bucky had spent more time staying with Steve during the winter than anywhere else. 

“Why’d you never replace that busted, old thing?” Bucky asked.

Steve outright laughed. “I couldn’t afford it. Hell, I could barely afford food.”

“That wasn’t the only reason. Was it?”

From anyone else, in any other context, the question would have made Steve defensive. From anyone else, it would have carried the elbow to the ribs, wink and nudge connotation, the one that said you know what I’m talking about. Nat or Stark might have asked it like that. The way Bucky asked it though, like he was looking for reassurance…Steve couldn’t get defensive. “You know it wasn’t.”

Bucky looked back at him.

Steve fidgeted. “What? It’s true. We both know it.”

Bucky couldn’t hold his gaze.

Oh. “You needed to hear that, didn’t you?”

“I feel like I’m goin’ crazy, Stevie. I’m gettin’ my memories back and sometimes I think Hydra tampered with-“ he motioned around his head.

Steve watched him, wanting to say that Hydra hadn’t done anything, that he wasn’t going crazy. 

Bucky sighed. “What if-?” He choked on the words and started again. “What if the fucked up version of the serum they used on me did something-?”

Steve sat up. “You’re not anything like the Red Skull, Buck.”

“You can’t know that.” 

Steve protested and scooted so he faced Bucky.

Bucky cut him off. “No, you can’t, Steve!”

“Do you trust me?” Steve asked, knowing the question would make Bucky pause. It earned him an incredulous look.

“What kind of question is that?”

It wasn’t an answer. “Do you?” he pressed.

Hurt flashed in Bucky’s eyes. “You think I don’t?”

“N-I didn’t mean that, Buck.” He tried to capture Bucky’s gaze. “Just answer the question. Go with me on this.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. It was the most emotion he’d shown since the memories started. “Yes, Captain Dramatic. I trust you.”

Steve grabbed both of Bucky’s hands. “Then you gotta trust me when I say I know you, Buck. And you aren’t the Red Skull. You won’t become the Red Skull”

The despondency in Bucky’s eyes broke Steve’s heart. “But I became something worse.”

Steve shook his head. “No, no, you-“ he pointed at Bucky’s chest “-you didn’t.” He stopped Bucky from protesting. “You said you trusted me?”

Bucky nodded once, very slowly.

“Now, I don’t know what effects the serum had on you but if it amplified anything about you, anything at all, then it just made you better than you already were.”

Suddenly, Bucky was on his feet, agitated. He ran a hand through his hair and he looked around the room, wanting to focus his gaze somewhere but, in the throes of his guilt, he couldn’t do it. “N-n-no, I killed people. I remember all the ways I ended their lives.” He turned wild eyes on Steve. “I remember killing them, all of them! That doesn’t make me better! It makes me a monster!”

Steve got to his feet. “You know, over the past couple of years, I’ve learned a lot about monsters. I’ve learned how to recognize them. The Hulk isn’t a monster. Rory isn’t a monster. Barton wasn’t a monster. Pierce? He was a monster. So was Rumlow. And Nathaniel. And Loki.”

Bucky bit back a bitter laugh. “So I’m in good company. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Nah, Buck. A monster doesn’t feel guilt. But a human being does. And what you’ve been dealing with ever since you came back, that’s all been guilt.” He got in Bucky’s face, slowly.

Bucky kept shaking his head. “I don’t understand.”

“I think you do,” Steve countered, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You feel guilty for the things you did under Hydra. That tells me all I need to know. All anyone needs to know.”

“What’s that?” Bucky asked, just louder than a whisper, as he looked up at Steve.

Steve poured all of his soul into his next words. “That you’re not a monster, Buck. Okay?”

Bucky stared at him. Tears welled up in his eyes.

“I knew what I was doing when I gave my shield to you,” Steve continued, tears forming in his own eyes. They hadn’t talked about it before. Maybe they should have. Maybe then, Bucky regaining his memories wouldn’t be hitting him so hard.

Bucky snorted. “Like hell you did. You were fading in and out of consciousness. There’s no way you could have-“ Steve stopped him with a quirk of his eyebrow. Of course there was a way and Bucky knew it. “Why’d ya do it?”

Steve smiled. “Why do you think?”

He could see the gears turning in Bucky’s head and he saw the light bulb light up when he figured it out. Bucky’s jaw went slack. “Y-you…”

Steve shrugged. “I didn’t think it was something you’d believe if I just told you so…”

A myriad of emotions crossed Bucky’s face. He couldn’t hold onto just one. They melded into something fond and exasperated. “You sneaky son of a bitch.”

“You sound surprised,” Steve deadpanned. “After ninety plus years, you’d think I couldn’t do that anymore.”

Bucky finally smiled, a tired smile but a smile nonetheless. He was still shivering. “Fuck, I’m still cold.”

Steve pushed him in the direction of the bathroom. “Hot shower. Go. Now.” 

On his way out the door, Bucky flipped Steve the bird and Steve knew Bucky could hear him laughing down the hall.

He was flipping through one of his old notebooks, just to pass the time, when Bucky screamed. Steve threw the notebook on the bed and rushed down the hall. 

***

He had to get away. 

They were starting over.

He was going to drown. He had to escape.

They forced a cloth over his face and pulled it taut.

No. No. Not again.

He struggled against the restraints hard enough to bruise but he couldn’t break free.

They never drenched him with water at first. They poured it slowly, so very slowly, to prolong the wait. Because he knew what was coming and the more he struggled, the slower they went.

When the water soaked through the cloth, he screamed. Water got in his mouth, in his nose. He was drowning.

Bucky frantically reached for the shower knob and turned the water off. The water had to go. All of it. Rivulets ran down his face from his soaking wet hair. He furiously tried to brush it away but he couldn’t get away from it.

“Get it off! Get it off!” he begged of thin air but those that tortured him all that time ago weren’t there to hear him. 

“Bucky?” Steve called out from the doorway, having opened it just enough to peek in. “What’s wrong?”

Steve’s voice cut through just enough of the terror for Bucky to look up. He knew Steve could help him but he couldn’t reply. Water still ran down his face and the ghost of a cloth being pressed against his mouth stopped him from speaking.

He was only vaguely aware of Steve stepping into the bathroom as he kept muttering, “Get it off.”

“Get what off?” Steve asked and in the back of Bucky’s mind, he was aware Steve was approaching slowly to not spook him further.

The water. He had to get the water off, had to get away from the water. They were going to drown him again.

Then he heard the shower curtain being pulled back and he felt a towel being run over his hair, stopping it dripping down his face. 

Steve knew. Without Bucky having to say anything, Steve just knew.

“Grab my hand, Buck.”

He felt blindly for the hand being offered and let it guide him out of the shower. Steve stood to his side, never closing him in, or crowding him, as he helped him dry off. Just having Steve there held the broken pieces together, kept Bucky from flying apart. Every point of contact, of skin against skin, reassured him. As long as Steve was there, he was safe.

Steve walked with him to his room, supporting him as he threw on a pair of Steve’s old sweats.

“Can you give me a moment?” he asked quietly.

Steve narrowed his eyes. “You sure?”

Bucky took a deep breath. His whole body shook with the sudden rush of air. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Steve loosened his grip on Bucky’s arm. Bucky reached up to cover the exposed skin with his own hand to keep from shivering with the sudden cold.

“I’ll be down the hall if you need me, okay?”

Bucky gave him what he hoped was a reassuring nod. After the door clicked shut, he looked around his room, trying to find something help ground him, something to tell him he was home. But the room was as empty as he felt. It was functional, nothing more.

Home had walked out the room with Steve.

And, despite everything, he was still shaking, although from the cold or fear, he didn’t know anymore. He couldn’t even get to the bed. He collapsed onto the carpet as the tears welled up in his eyes. Before they could fall, he brushed them away angrily. 

A few minutes later, the door creaked open and Steve walked in to find Bucky sobbing on the floor. Part of Bucky wanted to snap at Steve to leave him alone but part of him—the larger part—wanted Steve to stay. He let Steve help him into bed and bit back a protest as Steve climbed in beside him. Despite the slight strangeness at sleeping in a bed he hadn’t quite come to think of as his and at sleeping next to Steve, even though they’d done it before, he relaxed into Steve’s arms as Steve curled around him. Steve said nothing. He just let Bucky cry himself out until he fell asleep. Right before Bucky eyes closed, he realized he wasn’t shaking as badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied about being a little bit behind on the updates. Stuff's straightening itself out, at least a little bit. I guess just keep it in the back of your mind that I could disappear for a while without warning?
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading, liking, and commenting. I cannot begin to say what it means to me but y'all really are the greatest.


	38. Chapter 38

Bucky stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, his head pounding. Steve sat at the bar, a mug sitting on the counter next to him—had to be full of coffee from the way the kitchen smelled—and a pencil in his hand. For a moment, Bucky stood in the doorway and watched Steve work. When he did that, he could pretend nothing since he’d left for war had happened. He could imagine they were back in that shanty when Steve woke up early and started on his sketches.

Steve glanced up from his notebook and smiled when he saw Bucky standing there. “Mornin’,” he said, looking Bucky over. “You look like crap.”

Bucky grumbled something, not caring enough to form words.

The corners of Steve’s mouth curled up and he pointed at the counter. “There’s still coffee left if you want some. Mugs are second cabinet to your right.” Further evidence he could read Bucky like a book.

Once he had a large cup of coffee in hand, Bucky sat down on a barstool next to Steve. He took a couple of sips, letting the coffee burn his throat as it went down, before saying anything. “Whatcha workin’ on?”

Steve raised his arm and slid his notebook across the countertop. Bucky pulled the notebook in front of him. There, on the page, in amazing detail, was Bucky sitting next to Sif and Fandral, with Volstagg’s children climbing across his lap. He traced the pencil lines of his face, his smile. Steve had a gift. 

“This is amazing.”

Steve shifted in his seat, fidgeting like he always did when anyone complimented him directly. Bucky used to compliment him when they were younger for whatever he could get away with just to watch Steve squirm. 

He must have been smiling because Steve asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Sliding the notebook back, he said, “That time I tried to teach you to fight, when was it—a couple of months after I met you?”

Steve nodded. “It wasn’t exactly your best idea.”

“No,” Bucky admitted with a laugh, “not so much. But you threw a good right hook.”

Groaning, Steve buried his head in his hands. “I didn’t. You just said something to make me feel better.”

“I had a shiner for days afterward,” Bucky admitted. “Thought I’d never be allowed out of the house again.”

Steve finally caught on to what Bucky was doing, the subtle teasing. “You’re an ass, you know that?”

“You sound surprised,” Bucky repeated Steve’s words from the night before. “After ninety plus years, you’d think that-“ He couldn’t get out the rest of the words because Steve’s lips were suddenly pressed against his. 

And as quickly it happened, it was over and Steve was out of his seat. “Breakfast?” he asked with a shit-eating grin. As he passed by Bucky though, he leaned in and whispered, “Two can play that game.” 

Where the hell had that come from?

Bucky gaped at Steve but that grin went nowhere. 

“You gonna help me with breakfast or are you just gonna sit there?” Steve teased. He opened a couple of cabinets and grabbed a couple of mixing bowls.

Bucky slid off the barstool and walked around the bar, still slightly dazed. “What should I do?”

Steve threw him a look over his shoulder. “I think I trust you enough to make scrambled eggs.”

“Says the guy who always let me cook,” Bucky grumbled, rummaging through the refrigerator for the carton of eggs.

Steve muttered something under his breath. Bucky only caught the words “forced” and “suffered.”

He kicked the door shut. “You say something?” 

Steve was the very picture of innocence and Bucky could only shake his head. They spent the time preparing breakfast in silence, one that Bucky hesitated to break but one he felt he needed to.

“Why aren’t we talking about last night?” he asked finally.

Steve didn’t look up. “Do you want to talk about last night?”

The question brought Bucky up short. “I-I don’t know.”

That got Steve to look at him. “I’m not gonna press you if you don’t.” He shrugged and went back to frying a pan of bacon. 

The new silence was slightly more uncomfortable. Bucky broke it after only a few minutes. “I want to talk to you about it,” he started, trying to reassure Steve. Or reassure himself. “I just don’t know if I can do it now.”

Steve took the frying pan off the eye of the stove, giving his whole focus to Bucky. “You can always talk about stuff with me, okay? Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

They ate a quiet breakfast, Steve opting to show his support just by his presence. Bucky was grateful for that.

“Hey guys,” Natasha’s voice broke through the silence from the intercom. “You should turn the TV on. Seems like our little powwow with the top dogs at CNN had some unexpected side effects.”

Steve glanced at Bucky but he failed to hide his concern fast enough so Bucky didn’t see it.

Bucky was worried too. His reaction to the last report he’d seen hadn’t exactly inspired confidence in himself. But Natasha sounded, strangely, almost positive.

“Guys, I’m serious,” she added when neither of them replied to her. “I think it’ll surprise you.”

Well, then. Bucky decided there was nothing for it and handed the remote to Steve.

Steve pointed the remote at the screen. The image appeared on the screen a couple of seconds before the sound system booted up. 

“The turnout here in Central Park is frankly unbelievable, Shannon,” a male reporter stated over an image of thousands of people congregating within the confines of the park, sporting T-shirts, signs, anything and everything a person could, with words of support toward Bucky and a few not-so-kind messages toward the reporters and government officials who dared to cross them.

“The response after that news report on CNN yesterday has been exponentially greater than anything I could have hoped for,” Natasha explained over the din from the TV. Bucky could hear the smile on her face. “I think we got it, guys.”

Natasha seemed to understand they needed a little time to digest so she cut off the intercom without even saying goodbye.

“What did they say?” Bucky murmured, sitting down on the sofa. “They didn’t kill anybody, did they?” He looked up at Steve, who was still standing by the sofa. It wasn’t a question he was used to asking but with the team they’d sent, he had to consider the possibility. He’d seen the three of them angry. If anyone at CNN had made them the same level of angry Hydra did…people might have died.

“I don’t think so. Nobody’s come to arrest them.” Steve sat down beside him. “Yet.” The smile on his face was pure relief. “But I’d be curious to know what they did say. I could have sworn that Shannon was out to get you.”

Bucky watched the TV as reporters interviewed some of the people in the crowd. He almost smiled when a very young, familiar face appeared. Little Hannah held up a sign she’d written, beaming a smile at the camera. He could still feel her arms wrapped around his neck and the trust she’d put in him to get her out alive.

“How do you know her?” 

He looked away from the TV to see Steve watching him. “Her name’s Hannah. She was in DC when…well…” His voice trailed off. Steve would know what he was talking about. “I’d seen her before. She was at the museum the first time too. She, uh, she recognized me. Or whoever I was at the time. Kept going back because she wanted to see me again. At least, that’s what her mother said.”

“You saved her life, didn’t you?”

Bucky nodded. “I couldn’t leave her anymore than I could have left you.”

Steve laced their fingers together, metal against skin. 

They sat there for a moment, letting the TV fill the silence. Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand. “What do we do now?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Steve replied, his brow furrowing.

“Now that Hydra’s defeated, for now anyway, what do we do? We can’t just sit around and watch TV.” He released Steve’s hand and got up to pace the room. “You have your art but-“

“You don’t,” Steve finished for him. Bucky heard the understanding dawn on him. He couldn’t fully understand though, Bucky mused. “What about piano? You used to play-“

“I can’t pick it up after all that time. Plus I’m not sure this-“ he waved his metal arm in front of Steve’s face “-would make it any easier.”

Steve was silent, considering. “You remember how excited you got over Disney movies? What if I could show you something else you could nerd out over?” 

There wasn’t anything worth getting that excited over. Anyway, Bucky wasn’t sure he had the ability to get that excited. The level of excitement for Disney he’d had before the war he remembered but there was a wall between that Bucky and this one. They were too different, too distinct.

All Bucky had done, all he was good at, was being a soldier. He could kill people and, if the situation needed it, he could save people. It was the edge of a sword he had to walk down. But it was all he could do. Steve didn’t seem to understand that. Or he didn’t want to.

“You won’t know till you try,” Steve told him, turning the TV off. The station had finished their coverage of the “Save Bucky Barnes” campaign and had switched to coverage of the issue of rising gas prices.

Bucky half wanted to catch up on everything he’d missed in seventy years but that amount of knowledge was overwhelming. He wondered, more often than not, how Steve managed it, how Steve could assimilate into this world that was so strange, so different from the world they’d left. But then Steve would put on a record from 1941 or flip through one of his notebooks from the Depression, the pages yellowed and crinkled with age. He could bring pieces the past forward with him. Bucky couldn’t do that, didn’t know how.

The past was too disconnected from who Bucky was now for him to fight for it anyway. Except for anything involving Steve. Those memories, now with very few gaps, those he fought for. But, as Sam would have told him, he couldn’t live his life around Steve. That might have worked before and it worked during the war but this was after all of that. They weren’t at war anymore.

“Rory has a piano at her place,” Steve told him when he headed for the door. He kept his head down, working fervently in his notebook but Bucky saw the smile on his face. 

He really needed to ask someone about mind reading.

Rory was in her lab, bent over a schematic with Bruce. There was still a lot of damage from the explosion but she’d replaced her equipment at least. She smiled when she saw him. “Hey Bucky Cap! What brings you to my humble, still under construction, abode?” 

Bucky stepped over debris, pointedly ignoring her use of Bucky Cap, to reach her and shook Bruce’s hand. “Steve said you had a piano?”

She tilted her head. “Yeah…why?”

He took a breath and the next words came out in a rush. “Would you mind if I-?” He couldn’t quite finish asking her for permission though. He couldn’t stand it if he damaged her instrument.

But she understood. She told Bruce she’d be right back. “I didn’t know you played,” she commented as she led him to the back of the lab. The wall had been moved closer to the outside to make room for her living quarters so she wasn’t invading Bruce’s space anymore.

“I used to,” he admitted quietly. “Not sure if I still can.”

“You know how to ride a bike right?” she asked, motioning him into her living room. 

He nodded.

“And they say you never really forget how to ride a bike. It becomes partly instinctual.” She pointed at the glossy black upright piano. Her voice turned wistful. “Piano’s the exact same. No matter how long it’s been since you’ve played, you always remember how.” 

“You have any music?” he asked, wondering when she’d stopped playing.

“All in the cabinet to the right,” she informed him. “Take your pick. I have quite a lot.” Once she was sure he’d found it, she left, shutting the door behind her. 

Turned out she was right about the piano. It was just like riding a bike and he hadn’t forgotten it at all. And for once, his metal arm was good for something besides combat. He’d lost none of his dexterity in that hand and not being to feel the keys beneath his fingers was only slightly disconcerting. 

He stayed with the instrument all day, relearning its intricacies and secrets, sometimes playing from Rory’s music, sometimes just fiddling with the keys. The music seeped into the cracks and holes, the scars in his mind, in his heart. Steve had his art. Now Bucky had something as well.

Damn Steve and his almost too on point suggestions. 

The next morning, when Bucky stumbled into the kitchen to start the coffeemaker, leaving Steve sprawled out in the bed, the piano was sitting in their living room with a note saying, “Treat her well for me. ☺”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is way late (for me) but I couldn't leave y'all in the lurch. So here's our next chapter.
> 
> Again, I don't know how regularly I'll be posting these next few weeks because I'm in the process of moving and it's a nightmare. Real life gets in the way of everything. What can I say?
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone for reading, liking, commenting. It's because of you guys that I keep writing and I cannot thank you enough. :)


	39. Chapter 39

Steve had surprisingly gotten used to sharing a bed. Actually, he was even more surprised that he was sleeping in a bed at all. Two years since he’d woken up and beds had never held much appeal. Sam had been right. They were too soft. He slept better on the ground, not carpet but hardwood or tile. But when the bed dipped under Bucky’s weight and creaked when Bucky shifted, curling into Steve’s chest or curling around Steve as the mood took him, Steve really couldn’t find a reason not to sleep in one.

Bucky wasn’t the only one to have nightmares though. About a week into their new sleeping arrangement, Steve jolted awake from bad one and sat straight up in bed, the sheets tangled around him. For a moment, he thought he was back in the SSR base right after Bucky had fallen from the train. He had to see Bucky’s sleeping form beside him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, to get a grip on reality again. 

He had no idea what Bucky dreamed about, what horrible things filled his nightmares. God knew, Bucky had been having some bad ones. Most nights he’d wake up screaming, running to the bathroom to throw up or to just be alone. Steve would find him sitting in the corner with his knees tucked to his chest, sometimes sobbing, sometimes not. And Steve had no idea how to help him.

His only focused on one common theme and that was losing Bucky. A handful of events playing into that theme melded together to create something that sucked the breath out of Steve’s body and settled horribly in the emptiness that Bucky had left, a hole that Steve wasn’t sure had been filled even with Bucky’s return from the dead. A part of him had grown accustomed to Bucky’s absence, scar tissue he still carried with him.

In a way, he almost considered Bucky a ghost. He only half-believed sometimes that Bucky was there with him, that he hadn’t lost him permanently. His subconscious picked up on that and taunted him with it. He feared reopening that wound, almost as much as he feared reopening any of Bucky’s wounds. Steve would be gutted in either case.

He swung his legs off the edge of the bed and covered his face with his hands. There were no tears left to cry, not over that. Only a dull ache remained.

Bucky shifted beside him and, finding him not lying down, woke up. “Steve, what’s wrong?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

Steve plastered on a fake smile to reassure Bucky. “Nothing, Buck, go back to sleep.”

His words had the opposite effect. Bucky wiped the sleep from his eyes and pushed himself into a sitting position, turning on the lamp on the nightstand. “Wish you wouldn’t lie to me,” he grumbled, the soft light accentuating the contours of his face. “We’ve already been down that road.”

Steve sighed and twisted to face him. “Sorry.” He tried and failed to ignore the hurt crinkling around Bucky’s eyes. “It was just a nightmare.” He turned back around, unable to hold Bucky’s gaze.

“You don’t wanna talk about it?” Bucky asked, pressing up against Steve’s back, draping his arms over his shoulders.

Steve leaned back against Bucky’s chest and closed his eyes, relishing in the skin on skin contact. The junction between Bucky’s metal arm and his shoulder felt strange, a dichotomy of cold and hot, but that was Bucky. Steve didn’t mind. “Not sure you want me to talk about it,” he corrected. 

If there was something Steve was confident Bucky understood, it was that. They lived in a constant state of quiet suffering, neither willing to burden the other. Sam could take some of the burden. Natasha, Bruce, even Thor and Sif could. But Steve refused to add to what Bucky was already carrying. Besides, Bucky was already carrying some of that burden anyway. Steve hadn’t forgiven himself for letting Bucky in on his recklessness. No, he chided himself, he’d been suicidal.

Bucky trailed his lips up the side of Steve’s neck. He whispered, his lips ghosting over Steve’s ear, “Still lying.”

Had he been? Had he really been lying? But then, he had no idea why he wasn’t talking to Bucky. None at all. “What do you want me to say?” Steve protested, suppressing a shiver. Really, it wasn’t fair for Bucky to fall back on that to get a straight answer. When the hell had he learned to do that anyway? When had Steve completely given up fighting it?

“I want you to tell me the truth,” Bucky replied, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder, his voice soft and serious. “Just talk to me, okay? I told you before, you can’t hurt me like that.” He scooted around to face Steve. It left him dangerously close to the edge of the bed.

Steve blew out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, still avoiding meeting Bucky’s eyes. “It’s nothin’ you don’t already know.” And it wasn’t. Sort of. When they’d fought in his apartment, they’d covered pretty much everything there was to know about the aftermath of what now plagued him in nightmares.

Bucky leaned over and caught Steve’s gaze. “I’m aware of that, punk. But you still need to talk about it. If not to me, then to someone.”

There was a question in Bucky’s voice, one that Steve could identify even without Bucky explicitly asking. Did Steve trust Bucky to have his back, to protect him the way he used to, after everything they’d gone through or would he go to someone else, spill his guts to another person, let another person protect him? Steve thought back to Bucky pulling him from the river, to Bucky sniping Hydra’s soldiers from half a mile away, to Bucky, half delirious and broken, leaning over him and whispering “I love you,” through his tears. He didn’t have to think about his answer then.

He could talk to Bucky. He would talk to Bucky.

“It was the train. It’s almost always the train,” he finally said. “I keep reliving that moment.” I keep seeing you die, he thought but didn’t say. There weren’t words to fully articulate the hollowness settling in his chest at the thought. “I keep losing you and I’m scared of losing you again.”

“I’m right here, kid. I’m a bad penny—you know that. I’ll always turn up.” Bucky grabbed one of Steve’s hands and laid in on his shoulder, giving Steve physical reassurance his words couldn’t.

Steve laid his head against Bucky’s arm. His next words were muffled against Bucky’s skin. “I can’t help feeling it was my fault. I dragged you back into the war, I dragged you onto that train. And I couldn’t save you.”

Bucky inhaled deeply. “I know, Steve. I got nothin’ to tell you. I can’t say it’s not your fault. I know from experience it doesn’t help. But you did save me. Over and over again. When I was- When Hydra- Something pulled me back, ya know?” He sat back and clasped Steve’s hand again. “That was all you.”

Steve turned their hands over in his lap. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Bucky replied, “I heard you. From the train and on the bridge. You knew me. You called me by name.” He grabbed Steve’s face. “I remembered you, did you know that? After the bridge, I remembered you. You brought me back.”

Steve felt his face fall slack. None of his limbs would move. Bucky’s words filled his body with lead, sinking into his fingers and toes. He couldn’t move his mouth, couldn’t form words. His words to Natasha and Sam in the van came back to him. “He looked right at me and he didn’t even know me.” They didn’t haunt him but he could never have fathomed he’d been so wrong. All he could do was stare.

“Steve?” Bucky asked hesitantly.

Steve swallowed. What could he say to that? How could he ever find words to reply to what Bucky just told him?

Bucky crumpled when Steve didn’t reply. His shoulders slumped and he shifted to retreat to the other side of the bed. But he stayed put, asking, “Steve, what’s wrong?”

Only then did Steve’s brain reboot enough to find words. “I don’t- There’s not-“ He sighed, running a hair through his hair. He had to say something, that much he knew. But there weren’t words in English for what he had to say. He spoke rapidly in French, the words tumbling out of his mouth almost faster than he could think them. His regrets over not saying something to Bucky sooner about how he felt. The fear still gripping his heart, that only got worse when Bucky left his sight, that woke him up at night with dreams of Bucky dying always right before Steve could save him. There was still guilt knowing at him and, in that frenzied rush of words, he spilled that too. 

The more he said, the less heavy he felt. The lead in his limbs dissolved, leaving a lightness behind. 

Bucky’s eyes slowly widened to saucers the longer Steve talked. “You couldn’t have said all that in English like a normal human being?” 

Steve rolled his eyes. Good ole Bucky. “Says the guy who swears in Russian when he’s angry,” he teased.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, “but you don’t know Russian.”

“I know a little,” Steve protested. “Enough to know you swear like a sailor.”

Bucky ducked his head, hiding his smile even as his body shook with quiet laughter. “Of course, that’s what you’d pick up on.”

“First words you learn in any language besides ‘hello’ and ‘where’s the bathroom’,” Steve explaining with a grin.

“Who the hell told you that?”

Steve shrugged. “Mainly Natasha. And Sam. Stark too, but he only speaks machine and I’m not sure they swear.”

The laughter that spilled from Bucky’s mouth was raucous and beautiful. And contagious. 

Steve’s sides hurt from laughing so hard. They really hadn’t said anything all that funny but there they were laughing their asses off for no good reason other than it felt good. And God, did it feel good.

Bucky wiped the tears from his eyes, gratitude and joy lighting his face up. He opened his mouth to say something but hesitated.

“What?” Steve asked, having caught his breath.

“Thanks,” Bucky said simply.

Steve furrowed his brow. “For what?” If anything, he needed to thank Bucky for still being there for him when he was knee deep in recovered memories and dealing with traumas Steve couldn’t begin to imagine. Hopefully, he could help Bucky through it. That much, he owed him. He couldn’t get through his without Bucky. That much he knew. 

Bucky shook his head and closed the distance between them. They sat facing each other, inches apart, until Bucky surged forward across that final gap and threw his arms around Steve, hugging him close.

Steve melted into the embrace, absentmindedly noticing how warm Bucky was when he’d been so cold just days ago. Bucky muttered phrases in multiple languages into Steve’s shoulder. Some of the languages Steve recognized, some he didn’t. He didn’t reply to anything though, just gave Bucky the same space he’d been given. Space to vent, to say things he wouldn’t otherwise say. 

His hand eased up Bucky’s back into his hair, dragging a groan deep from Bucky’s throat.

Bucky pulled back, breaking the hug but keeping his hands on Steve’s arms. He wanted to say something, hopefully in English—Steve was too tired to decipher the various languages.

“Thank you,” Bucky whispered in the quiet.

“’Course, Buck,” Steve whispered back. He yawned, drawing a smile from Bucky.

“Can we go back to sleep now? I was having a good dream before you woke me up,” Bucky griped.

Steve nudged his shoulder. “I don’t even want to know, do I?” He caught Bucky’s shit-eating grin as Bucky switched the lamp off.

He slid under the covers, getting ready to fall back asleep. Bucky joined him, laying down so that his face hovered above Steve’s. He kissed Steve slowly, languidly. “You sure you don’t wanna know what I was dreaming about?”

Steve grinned. “Well, since you made the argument so convincingly…”

It was well into the night before they actually slept again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all are continuing to enjoy this. Just as a public service announcement, I probably won't be updating again until next week unless renovating and packing/moving this weekned doesn't kill me (which I expect it will).
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone for reading and liking and commenting :) Means the world to me.


	40. Chapter 40

Despite the catharsis of their conversation, Bucky’s nightmares got worse after that night and they got worse rapidly. Bucky couldn’t sleep longer than a couple of hours at a time and he never slept deeply. Natasha informed him he wasn’t getting any REM sleep, not that he really understood what that meant. And he was too exhausted to care.

Rory tried to explain it to him a few days later and generally, she was amazing at bringing complex science concepts down to a level he understood. Her face lit up whenever she explained something to anyone and if Bucky hadn’t already wanted to learn about whatever it was she could teach him, that would have changed his mind. But he was so exhausted when she started in on REM sleep and its benefits that he ended up snapping at her.

She wanted to help him, he could tell. But he couldn’t deal with her when he was so tired. He just had to ignore how much her face had fallen when she left.

More and more, he found himself in Sam’s apartment. The first time he wound up there, Sam figured out he liked tea and every subsequent time, as soon as he stumbled through the door, Sam had a cup waiting for him. Like Steve, Sam didn’t press him to talk. There was an expectation that he’d have to at some point but he had the power to define when that was. Or the illusion of power.

As long as he didn’t talk about it, he could pretend there were no problems, no problems with him. No problems with Steve either. He didn’t have to face that Steve’s nightmares, like his, were getting more frequent and more often than not woke Steve up, just as his woke him up. He could pretend they were fine. To acknowledge something was wrong would mean he’d have to do things he wasn’t prepared to do.

They passed Halloween with very little fanfare although a couple of videos ended up on the internet of Tony scaring the pants of Bruce, who morphed into the Hulk and proceeded to chase Tony around his lab. Clint complained about the excess damage being done to the building but he always had front row seats when Tony and the Hulk faced off. Usually with popcorn. His reactions ended up on the internet as well.

Steve’s smile, though present, wore thin every time there was a crash from the lab below so they spent those evenings out on the balcony. Sometimes Sam would join them. Sometimes Rory and Pepper would too.

Sam accompanied him to Tony’s lab when Tony called him in to fiddle with his arm. It was too similar to when Hydra made repairs and that was always followed by-

He stopped that thought in its tracks. Don’t think about it, he repeated to himself until he pushed the memory back. But the panic had set in and when Tony opened his arm up for a closer look, he shoved Tony back into a pile of spare parts. “Don’t touch me!” he screamed.

Sam stepped between Bucky and Tony when Bucky got out of the chair and moved to attack Tony. “Look, man, Tony didn’t mean anything. Come on, focus on me. Just me.”

Bucky tried to look around the room. He tried to go after Tony. 

Sam held up a hand. He glanced over his shoulder. “Tony, scram. You’re just gonna make this worse.” 

“Do you want me to get-?” Tony started to ask.

“No!” Sam snapped.

Tony fled the lab, leaving Sam alone with Bucky. Sam guided Bucky to the ground and knelt in front of him. “Focus on me, Barnes. Just listen to my voice and slow your breathing.” He watched as Bucky’s chest stopped heaving and his eyes stopped dancing, coming to rest on Sam’s face.

“God, Sam, what did I just do?” Bucky asked desolately.

“You were triggered by something Tony did,” Sam explained. “Have you had panic attacks before now?”

“What are panic attacks?” 

Sam ran through a general list of symptoms, hoping Bucky wasn’t going to recognize any of them. He couldn’t get that lucky. Bucky’s eyes widened the more Sam listed.

“That’s what I’ve been having? Panic attacks?” Bucky sat back on the ground. “Why?”

Sam offered him a reassuring smile. “Because you went through things no human being should and your brain’s doing its best to deal with that. Anything related to that trauma and your brain tries to protect you, sends signals to the rest of your body that it’s in danger even if it’s really not.”

Bucky buried his face in the crook of his arm. “I could have killed him. Stark.”

Sam didn’t believe in sugarcoating anything. “Yes, you could have. But you didn’t, you hear me? You didn’t. And that’s what you gotta focus on.”

Tears welled up in Bucky’s eyes. “What do I do? I can’t keep doing this. How do I fix this?”

The unspoken question was “How do I fix me?”

“Well, first thing’s first. You gotta start talking.” Sam bent over and caught Bucky’s averted gaze. “And that’s the hardest part, that first step, okay?”

Bucky clammed up. “I can’t, Sam.” 

Any of the others might not have known how to connect to Bucky in that moment. But Sam had been there. He was still there. He struggled with it every moment he was alive and Riley wasn’t. “I get that, man. I told you about Riley before, right?” He continued with a nod from Bucky. “It took me months to talk to anyone about what I’d gone through. Spent those months like a zombie. Couldn’t sleep, couldn’t really eat. Lashed out at anything that moved.”

Bucky stared at him, transfixed.

“It took me about a week for it to really hit then it knocked me on my ass. I pushed through it long enough to finish that tour. Not the best idea but I did it.” Sam sighed. “Trying to go it alone is about the worst thing you could do.”

“I’m not alone,” Bucky replied petulantly. “I’m not.” Almost as if he were trying to convince himself more than he was Sam.

Sam shook his head. “’Course you’re not. I’m not saying that. But you’re not letting anyone help you either. There’s only so much Steve can do. He’s hurting too.”

He’d put Bucky in a tough position and he hated himself for it.

“I don’t want to remember,” Bucky started, tripping over his words. “I can see them all, every person I killed. The expressions on their faces. They were so scared, Sam. They were all terrified.” He ran a through his hair. “I’m a soldier. It was my job to protect people. Not kill them!” 

Sam could say something to that but he’d opened the floodgate so he kept his mouth shut and let Bucky talk.

“Natasha was scared. Both times. On the freeway and outside Odessa. She hid it well but she was terrified. You were scared too.” 

Sam snorted. “You’re damn right I was scared. I came from fighting insurgents in the middle of the desert to you? Dude, scared is an understatement.” He tried to parse Bucky’s reaction but he kept his expression carefully neutral. The man was hard to get a read on at times. “What about Steve?”

“He was terrified,” Bucky whispered. “He shouldn’t—I don’t know why he—Sam, he’s my best friend and I would’ve killed him.” He looked down, eyes blown wide. “I could still kill him. I think-I think I’ve tried to.”

Sam hadn’t heard about that. “What are you talking about, man?” Better question: why had Steve not said anything? To anyone? “As the Winter Soldier? Because, we got that already.” He paused, considering. “Or are you talking about after?”

“After,” came the miserable reply.

Sam drew a blank before he fell back on the advice that helped him. “Talk me through it. What happened?”

“I drew a knife on him. Before we went to that first Hydra base.” Bucky opened his hands in his lap, twisting them, staring at them. “I was having a nightmare and I guess he tried to wake me up and I-I tried to stab him. I remembered remembering it but I didn’t remember it. I remember it now but I didn’t-” He glanced up at Sam, completely lost. “I’m sorry. That makes no sense.”

“Is that what it felt like, when you were-?”

“When I was Hydra’s?” Bucky finished for him. “It was, until recently. Now, I remember everything. From…then. From before. All of it. That’s my problem.”

“Are you sure those memories are the problem?” Sam asked, to receive a glare from Bucky. He tried a different tact. “Has that happened more than once?”

“Which part?” Bucky returned. “The part where I tried to kill Steve or the part where I turned back into Hydra’s puppet?”

Either one was important. Bucky told Sam that both had happened multiple times, always accompanied by a panic attack, even after he’d returned from Asgard.

Sam took a deep breath. “I’m gonna make a suggestion. Don’t get mad at me for making it or jump to conclusions about it. We cool?”

Bucky eyed him warily. “I’m not going to like it, though, am I?”

“Man, I just told you not to jump to conclusions.” Sam ensured he didn’t sound too rough, too similar to Bucky’s Hydra handlers. “And no, maybe you won’t but hear me out?”

Bucky nodded once, giving Sam the go ahead to keep talking.

“I’m heading back to DC at the end of the week. How’d you feel about coming with me?” It was a long shot, Sam knew, but getting Bucky away from the large group in the Tower—and Steve—was the best thing for him. His mind needed to heal on its own, away from any sort of stressor.

There wasn’t much fight left in Bucky though. “Will it help?”

Sam nodded. “Man, it can’t hurt.”

“What about Steve?”

Sam sighed. This was the hard part, the part he didn’t think Bucky would go for. “Nat’ll keep an eye on him here,” he assured Bucky.

Bucky shook his head, pushing himself off the floor. “I can’t leave him, Sam. Everything he’s going through is my fault.”

Sam followed suit and stood up. “I got a question for you. When was the last time you thought about you? Not in terms of Steve or Hydra. Or even the Avengers.”

The question brought Bucky up short. “I-I don’t know,” he answered, leaning against Tony’s workbench. 

Sam walked up behind him. “You ever heard the story of Prometheus?”

Bucky turned around. “My memory’s back, remember? I did actually go to school, before the—well, the war. I’m sure Greek mythology was covered,” he quipped with a self-deprecating smile.

Sam bit back a smile of his own. “My mistake. But you gotta see you’re essentially Prometheus. You carry all your crap and pile on Steve’s besides. You gotta see it’s crushing you.”

“I’ve always done that for Steve though,” Bucky protested. “Somebody has to watch out for him.”

“You have to watch out for you too,” Sam countered. “Just carry your own weight for now, Barnes. That’s plenty.”

The skin around Bucky’s eyes creased in concern. “I just- I can’t. I can’t-”

“You’re not leaving him, or abandoning him, alright? This isn’t an alley in Brooklyn in the Depression or the War.” Sam laid a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go talk to him. I’m not gonna let you go alone. Because you’re not alone, man. Not anymore.”

He let Bucky lead the way from Tony’s lab—he gave Tony the all clear as they walked past him—up to Steve’s suite. He didn’t miss the way Tony snuck back into his lab to check on its condition.

Before they could knock on the door to the suite, Steve opened it, his face slightly red and puffy. “Hey, Buck. Sam. We, uh, we need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignore any typos, etc. in this. Two full days of painting and cleaning just about wore me out. I'm not sure my brain will ever be the same again. And guess what? I get to do the same thing for the next three weekends. What can I say? Moving, right?
> 
> Anyway, hope y'all enjoy. Thank y'all for reading, liking, commenting, everything. And for sticking with me through all my real life stuff. Y'all are the best!


	41. Chapter 41

Natasha rose from the sofa at the sound of Steve’s voice, hiding her surprise at Bucky and Sam walking into the suite. She met Sam’s gaze and knew they’d been having similar conversations, Bucky and Steve coming to the realization at the same time that they weren’t handling their situation well. In another universe, they’d be drift compatible. They could pilot a Jaegar without blinking, so in sync were they with each other.

One of these years, she’d point it out to them just to watch their equally confused expressions.

“Nat,” Sam said by way of a greeting.

She nodded in reply. “What happened?” she asked quietly to ensure they weren’t interrupting Steve and Bucky’s equally quiet conversation. She eyed the way Bucky melted into Steve’s arms, or Steve melted into Bucky’s. Maybe it was both. She wasn’t quite sure which.

Sam watched them too. “Stark was just starting some of his upgrades to Bucky’s arm, to help him regain feeling you know? And before Stark could do anything, he wigged out. I mean, out. There’s a breaking point and he’s at it.”

Natasha sighed. “Yeah, Steve is too.”

Sam glanced down at her. “What happened on your end?”

She raised her eyebrows. “What makes you think anything happened on my end?” she retorted.

“Steve’s almost as shaken as Bucky is. And I know you didn’t just pop in for a social call. You don’t do those.”

“No,” she admitted, returning her focus to her friends clutching to each other for dear life, “Steve called me, completely rattled. Said he’d broken a glass and needed help cleaning it up.” The image of Steve in the kitchen, broken glass covering the floor, was seared into her memory. “Sam, he had to broken every glass in the kitchen. I found him on the floor sobbing.”

If anything, that made the situation worse than Sam originally thought. “Can anything good ever happen to these guys?”

Natasha squared her shoulders. She’d spent many an hour grappling with that very question, many an hour wondering where she would fall in that spectrum. For either of them. She’d decided not to be a passive observer. “We happened. Let’s make that a good thing.”

“I can work with that,” Sam informed her.

Steve interrupted them. “Hey guys, would you mind giving us a minute?” He had one arm wrapped around Bucky’s waist and was leading him into the living room.

Sam exchanged a glance with Natasha but she only offered a one-sided shrug. “No can do, guys,” he replied.

Steve tried to interrupt. So did Bucky. But Natasha cut them both off. “You need us right now, whether you want us or not.”

Sam added, “For moral support at least. Come on guys, let us help.”

Bucky sighed. “We might as well all sit down then.” He sounded determined but very, very defeated. Natasha couldn’t imagine what he was going through, knowing it was best to leave but struggling to find the resolve to do it. She took a chair across from the sofa, Sam dragging a barstool from the kitchen and sitting on that.

“Bucky-“ Steve started, collapsing into the sofa next to his best friend.

Bucky leaned over his knees. “Steve, we need to figure this out. I need to figure this out. I almost killed Tony today. I’ve come close to killing you a couple of times. That’s not- I can’t keep doing that.”

“No, you can’t,” Steve agreed gently, drawing stares from everyone, Bucky most of all.

Natasha pushed her lips together. Steve wasn’t fighting this anymore. At least, he was fighting it much less than he had during their conversation before Bucky and Sam had arrived. He was stubborn. She had to give him that much. Maybe she’d gotten through to him more than she thought. So much for assumptions.

Bucky huffed, disbelievingly. “But I thought- I thought you-“ he ducked his head “-I thought I had to stay.”

“What for?” Steve wondered.

Bucky leveled a glare at him.

“For me?” he asked, incredulously. “Jeez, Buck, how many times have we had this conversation?”

Natasha glanced at Sam and was relieved to see he was as confused as she was. They hadn’t been present of any of those previous conversations. She could imagine how they’d gone though based on how she’d seen them interact. For now, all they could do was keep quiet and hope Steve and Bucky could figure things out.

“Not enough times apparently. Because nothing stuck,” Bucky griped. “I told you before you’re a goddamn martyr, Steve. Someone’s gotta have your back.”

Steve retorted, “For some reason, I’ve thinking of a phrase involving a pot and a kettle.”

Bucky crossed his arms. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not the only martyr here, Buck,” came the quiet reply. “You’ve had my back my whole life. What about you? Someone’s gotta look out for you too. Because you’re too dumb to do it yourself. And I don’t think I’m the best to do that right now.”

Sam was on alert as Bucky’s shoulders sagged.

But Bucky didn’t snap or lash out like Sam had seen him do when he was cornered. “You got smart, didn’t you?” he finally asked. 

Steve’s mouth curled up on one side. “’Course I did. You took the stupid with you, remember?”

Bucky ducked his head before looking guiltily at Steve. “Sam thinks I should leave with him at the end of the week.”

Natasha held her breath to see what Steve would do. She was surprised but in hindsight, she realized she shouldn’t have been. Steve was just too good a person to react any other way than how he actually did. 

Steve smiled, a small, exhausted smile but a smile nonetheless and tucked an arm between Bucky and the back of the sofa. “I get that you need time to sort stuff out so you go with Sam. Take as much as you need. Heal.” 

Bucky drew back, searching for something in Steve’s face. “You’re okay with this?” He sounded confused, unsure.

“As okay as I can be. I got your back, Buck.” He shrugged. “Like I said, even if I’m not the best for the job, someone’s gotta do it. God knows you won’t.”

“I’m usually too busy watching yours,” Bucky countered. “I swear you’re the only person who would pick a fight with someone twice your size.”

“Or fight a demi-god and his army,” Natasha threw in. “Or jump from a plane without a chute.”

Sam turned to her. “He did that do you too?”

“Yeah, into freezing cold water.”

“Now that’s just not fair,” Sam complained. “He made me catch him. I still can’t use that shoulder right.”

Bucky leveled a glare at Steve. “You jumped from a plane without a chute?”

Steve met his glare evenly. “More times than I can count.” He chuckled. “I guess Peggy didn’t tell you about that one time…”

“What one time?” Bucky’s voice held a hint of anger, and heaps of exasperation.

“He jumped on a grenade,” Natasha supplied smugly. “In basic training.”

Bucky twisted on the sofa, staring at Steve at a complete loss for words.

Steve was totally unfazed. “That was seventy years ago. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing, apparently.” Bucky sighed and told Natasha, “Good luck with him.”

Natasha burst out laughing and the underlying tension in the room broke.

“Just do me one favor?” Steve asked, serenity descending over his features once they’d all stopped laughing. He’d made his peace with what had to be done, to help Bucky. And himself. He continued when Bucky nodded. “Take Thor with you.”

Bucky almost protested but Natasha remembered something she’d overheard one of the times Hill had been talking to Pepper. “Wait a second, Agent Hill mentioned something about Dr. Foster being transferred from her position in London back to DC. Thor could stay with her. He’d just be nearby in case.” She glanced at Bucky. “He wouldn’t be in your way at all.”

Bucky was outnumbered and relented without a fuss. “Guess I can’t argue with all of you,” he groused without much bite, his lips tugging up slightly.

“Damn straight,” Steve teased, further lightening the mood in the room. “Glad to see you’re still as smart as you used to be.”

Bucky flipped him the bird despite how badly he sagged with exhaustion, both mental and physical. Steve wasn’t in any better shape. But both had a weight lifted from them, Natasha could tell. She was hopeful, more than she had been in a long time, about their chances.

Sam pushed himself out of the chair. “Well, now that we’ve got that straightened out, who wants lunch?”

Bucky said, “Sure,” as Steve said, “Long as you’re cooking.” They shared a look and burst out laughing again.

Drift compatible, Natasha mused. They would be the picture next to the definition in the dictionary.

Sam put the barstool back at the counter, maneuvered into the kitchen, and began emptying the refrigerator and pantry for any food he could find. Natasha thought it would be best if she helped Sam in the kitchen, giving Steve and Bucky a little privacy to further hash out things on their own.

Steve waited until Natasha and Sam were deep in their own conversation, peppered with gripes and teasing about Natasha’s nonexistent cooking skills, before pulling Bucky close. Bucky was pliant in his arms.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this, kid?” Bucky asked, his head resting against Steve’s shoulder.

“Buck, you’ve been having nightmares, panic attacks, and I haven’t been able to help you. I don’t think I can. If Sam’s got something he can do, go with him,” Steve reasoned.

Bucky sat up and looked Steve in the eye. “What about you?”

Steve nodded toward the kitchen. “I think I’m pretty well set. She’s a lot scarier than you are.”

“The brainwashed super assassin bit wasn’t scary?” Bucky asked wryly.

The only answer Steve bothered to give was a roll of his eyes, which promptly led to Bucky elbowing him in the gut, thankfully with his normal arm.

“Are we gonna get through this?”

“Yeah we are, Buck,” Steve replied, sounding far more sure than he felt. But he turned back to the kitchen to where Sam and Nat were bickering and his reassurances found the weight they’d been lacking.

Lunch wasn’t anything special. Steve didn’t have a lot of food left for Sam to work with but what he did have, Sam used to its full capacity. Even if Natasha got in the way and messed things up. So she couldn’t cook. You learn something new everyday, Steve thought to himself. 

Once Sam and Natasha were assured neither Bucky or Steve would have an issue being alone, they left, presumably to talk to Thor and the rest of the team. Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder and disappeared down the hall into his room, leaving Bucky alone in the living room. Bucky looked around for something to do and came up empty until his eyes fell on the piano. He sat on the bench and opened the first piece of music he found.

The song wasn’t one he recognized. It came out many years after he’d disappeared into Hydra’s grasp but he had skill enough to sight-read it decently. 

After the first few chords, Steve emerged from his room and very quietly started humming along. The song was a personal favorite of Rory’s and she sang it all the time. He’d picked up some of the lyrics after only hearing it twice.

Bucky whirled around on the bench when he heard Steve’s voice, his eyes slightly wide in surprise. 

One side of Steve’s mouth curled up. “I know the song,” he explained to Bucky’s stunned silence.

Bucky’s only reply was to slide the bench over so that Steve had a place to sit next to him while he played. He started the song over and this time Steve sang along from the beginning.

“It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday, the regular crowd shuffles in…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the home stretch guys. I'm hoping to get this finished before school starts in a little over a month. I'm still going to be posting a little more spread out because of renovating and moving- this is a super drawn out process and it's eating up all my weekends.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me through all this and thanks for reading and everything else. :)


	42. Chapter 42

Word that Bucky was leaving traveled quickly and the days leading up his departure were spent far more quietly that usual. Tony didn’t poke at Bruce the way he normally did. Clint didn’t drink as many pots of coffee. Pepper found every excuse to dodge meetings or anything else that would take her out of Avengers Tower those few days.

They tossed around the idea of a going away party but the word party didn’t seem appropriate. No one was celebrating Bucky and Sam’s departure. They were going to be missed.

Rory spent those days in her lab with Bruce, and the occasional appearance from Tony, more often than not bouncing a rubber ball off the wall. “There’s got to be something we can do,” she insisted to Bruce the day before Bucky was supposed to leave. 

“There’s nothing we can do,” Bruce explained for what seemed like the thousandth time. “I don’t think our help would be appreciated.”

Rory caught the ball in her left hand and spun in her chair to face Bruce. “Oh, come on, Bruce! You can’t tell me we’re just supposed to sit here and do nothing while our friend just ups and leaves?”

“That is exactly what I’m telling you,” he replied calmly. “It’s his decision. You can’t expect to change his mind.”

Rory backpedaled. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who said anything about changing his mind?” She threw the ball against the wall and caught it on the rebound. “I was talking about getting his a going away gift. Something that’ll help him get back into society a little bit. Give him something to do while he’s off on his own adventure.”

“A going away present?” Bruce asked for clarification. “That’s what you were talking about?”

Rory sighed. “Yes, that’s what I was talking about. Follow the conversation, Doc.”

Bruce slid his chair back from his desk. “You should have made that a little more clear.”

She threw the ball at Bruce, the projectile slamming into his arm. He glared at her over his glasses, as it bounced away. “I did make it clear, Doc, you just weren’t paying attention.” 

Bruce held up his hands, accepting defeat. “Fine, I wasn’t paying attention. So a going away present?”

They worked into the night, first coming up with an idea based on something Rory had been considering then calling Tony and Natasha down for their insight and programming expertise. None of them slept that night. They had work to do.

***

Bucky didn’t know how to act around Steve that last day. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to do, and there was just no time. Eventually, he settled for subtly distancing himself. He thought it would make actually saying goodbye less painful.

Of course, his plans didn’t pan out like he’d intended.

Steve appeared beside him while he fixed a quick breakfast. “You’re thinking too much,” he chided, his voice gentle.

Bucky kept his gaze firmly glued on his pan of eggs. Distance, he thought, keep your distance.

“What’s on your mind, Buck?” Steve prodded quietly, unaware of Bucky’s internal monologue.

He could lie and say nothing, pretend he had nothing on his mind. Until recently, that’s what he would have said. It had proven better to lie than not. But Steve could always tell when he was lying so it no longer had a use. He settled for, “A lot of things.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve smile. “Figured as much.” When Bucky glanced over at him, he explained, “You’re always quiet when you’re thinking.”

“Are you gonna be okay while I’m gone?” Bucky finally asked, scraping the scrambled eggs off onto a plate. His concern for Steve’s wellbeing, more mentally than physically anymore, was the only thing nagging him about the decision he’d made.

“I was okay before,” Steve reminded him.

Bucky came close to slamming the plate down on the counter, his resolve to maintain some form of distance crumbling. “No, you were surviving. That’s not ‘okay.’” He bent his head and murmured, “That’ll never be okay.”

“This isn’t gonna be like that,” Steve tried to assure him but the words washed off him, not sticking or sinking in. “You leaving is not the same as you dying. As long as I know that you’re somewhere out in the world and you’re getting better, that’s all I need to be okay. You hear me?”

Bucky muttered an answer but wasn’t able to fully form words.

Steve leaned against the counter next to him and ducked down to catch Bucky’s gaze. “You hear me?”

With reluctance, Bucky looked up at Steve. The expression on Steve’s face was not the horror Bucky remembered from when he fell from the train or the resignation from the helicarrier.

It was hope.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Steve repeated and Bucky’s resolve collapsed completely. Steve pulled Bucky into his arms, Bucky resting his head against Steve’s chest while Steve kept whispering, “We’re gonna be okay.”

Steve picked up Bucky’s breakfast and guided him to the bar, sitting him down on a barstool. “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold, Buck.” He moved to let Bucky eat in peace but Bucky reached for his hand, gripping it tight. 

No words needed to be exchanged for Steve to know that Bucky wanted him to stay so he sat on the barstool next to him.

Bucky only ate part of his breakfast and slid the rest over to Steve. Steve tried to insist that Bucky eat all of it, giving the excuse that he’d already eaten. Bucky huffed. “If you’d eaten, there’d be dishes in the sink or in the dishwasher. There aren’t. So take the damn plate and eat the damn eggs.” While Steve shoveled the food in, Bucky pulled out a notebook from his pocket and made another entry on the list he’d started a couple of days ago.

Steve peered over his shoulder. “’Make sure he eats breakfast’? Are you seriously making a list for Natasha on how to care for me?”

Bucky scribbled underneath his newest entry, “May have to insist.”

Steve gasped in mock anger. “You dick! I can take care of myself.”

Sticking the pen between his teeth, Bucky considered Steve. “That might be the biggest crock of bullshit I’ve ever heard,” he countered, pointing the pen at Steve. “Says the idiot who couldn’t even remember to eat breakfast,” he grumbled under his breath.

“I heard that.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and muttered something about Steve being a crazy super soldier who couldn’t care for himself.

“What was that?” Steve asked, his mouth curling up.

Bucky leaned over and kissed the smile right off of Steve’s face. “You’re always saying you’re smart. I think you can figure it out.” He grabbed the now empty plate and slid off the barstool to rinse it off and stick it in the dishwasher.

Steve came up behind him and rested his chin on Bucky’s shoulder. “You’re an ass.”

Bucky hummed and twisted so his face was close enough to Steve’s he could feel Steve’s breath. “Pot, kettle. Remember?” To prove his point, he wiped his wet hands on Steve’s shirt.

“I remember,” Steve griped, ruffling Bucky’s hair.

Bucky ducked and swatted Steve’s hand away. “What am I? Twelve?”

Steve arched an eyebrow. Bucky read that expression loud and clear. It was the do-you-really-want-me-to-answer-that expression Bucky had worn in response to some of Steve’s dumber questions and Steve had, more and more frequently, worn in response to Bucky’s.

The only proper response was to shove Steve back so that’s what Bucky did. Steve stumbled backward, extending a hand to not crash into the bar. He pushed himself upright, his chest heaving from laughing so hard. “Is that supposed to convince me you’re not twelve?” he teased. “Maybe I’ll make a list for Sam so he knows how to care for a twelve year old.”

“Don’t you dare,” Bucky growled. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

Steve grabbed Bucky’s notebook and pen that had been so casually left on the bar and waved them in Bucky’s face, grinning that infuriating shit-eating grin of his. “You gonna stop me?”

“Do you want me to stop you?” Bucky retorted. “I think we both know I can.”

Steve faltered, suddenly unable to look Bucky in the eye. Little warning bells went off in Bucky’s head, screaming “Shit, I fucked up.”

“Steve, I-“ Bucky started.

Steve held a hand up to stop him. “It’s okay, Buck. I just- give me a minute.”

Bucky retreated a couple of steps, confused at the turn in their conversation. He couldn’t keep standing there, unable to help and knowing that even if he could help, it would probably not be wanted. Without another word, he fled the kitchen, returning to the familiarity of his room. He slammed the door shut behind him, taking a little satisfaction in the noise it created.

How had he stepped in it that badly? The day before he was set to leave and he had to say something that brought up the very thing they were supposed to heal from. 

In frustration, he shoved a pile of papers and books on his dresser off into the floor. A piece of paper slid out and floated down ground, landing on top of one of the books. Bucky knelt and turned the paper over. It was a photograph from Steve’s time in basic, one Bucky hadn’t seen before. He traced his thumb over the image, over one of the few physical reminders of their life before.

Photo in hand, he left the safety of his room to check on Steve. He found his friend on the sofa, his face in his hands. Steve didn’t look up as he sat down beside him. “You remember this guy?” Bucky asked, sliding the picture across the coffee table toward Steve.

Steve reached for the picture. “Maybe vaguely.” He picked the photo up and examined it. “God, this was so long ago,” he muttered.

“It really wasn’t though,” Bucky told him. “It hasn’t been that long for us.”

Steve clutched the photo. “Still feels like it.” He looked up at Bucky. “I’m sorry for-“

Bucky cut him off. “Don’t, Steve. Don’t apologize. It wasn’t anything you could control.” He grabbed Steve’s shoulder, massaging circles with his thumb.

Steve relaxed under Bucky’s hand, his eyes falling closed. He bent his head and took a couple of deep breaths.

“Hey, kid,” Bucky said, “come here.” He held Steve close, letting Steve rest his head on his shoulder. How long they sat like that, Bucky didn’t know.

Steve finally turned the TV on and switched the source to the blu-ray player. He maneuvered them both to where they were spooning on the sofa, letting Bucky press up against his back. “What should we watch, Buck?”

“Something light hearted?” Bucky suggested.

Steve switched through the movies on the system, ones that Tony had added personally, some at Rory’s request, others at Nat’s. “How bout a Disney movie?” He selected the Disney menu and scrolled through the various movies.

Bucky whistled softly. ‘They made a few more since the last time we watched a movie, haven’t they?” he commented. He felt Steve chuckle in his arms.

“Something like that. So what sounds good?”

Bucky skimmed the titles. “What the hell is a Lilo and Stitch?”

Steve shrugged. “No idea. Let’s find out.” He pressed play on that movie and shuffled to a more comfortable position.

Bucky traced lines down Steve’s arm with his metal hand. Steve shivered under the touch. When Bucky paused, Steve assured him it wasn’t bothering him. “It’s just cold,” he explained.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Bucky whispered as the opening song started.

Steve rolled over, tangling his limbs with Bucky’s to keep from falling off the sofa. “You know right where I’ll be, Buck.”

Bucky pressed their foreheads together, hard, carding his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Love you, kid.”

“Damn right you do,” Steve teased, kissing Bucky gently. “Now, shut up and watch the damn movie.” He rolled back over and Bucky draped his metal arm across Steve’s chest.

For a moment, Bucky submerged himself in just spending time with Steve, wondering why he ever thought distancing himself on this last day was a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really think the paint fumes are frying my neurons. It's taking me a lot longer to write at this point but I swear, we're right there. We're so close to the end.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me and reading and liking and commenting. It means the world- you have no idea. Hope y'all enjoyed this one.


	43. Chapter 43

Sam regretted letting Tony and Nat rope him into helping with what was turning out to be a massive undertaking as far as going away presents were concerned. He spent a couple of hours late into that Thursday night mentally swearing at whoever he could for coming up with their idea the day before Bucky was supposed to leave.

He wasn’t the only one called in for help either. Rory and Bruce finally gave up and called everyone into the lab. Hill, Clint, Pepper and even Thor flitted in and out, offering suggestions and help as the situation called for it.

That being said, their plan was brilliant and well meaning. Sam hoped that it would help ease Bucky back into normal, civilian life. And into the 21st century. Because God only knew how much Bucky had missed in those seventy years. At least Steve had had a couple of years to make headway. He wasn’t quite as behind as Bucky was but he still mixed up Star Trek and Star Wars, much to Natasha’s dismay. She corrected him every time he did the Vulcan salute with “May the Force be with you.”

Sam feared for what Rory would do if Steve made that kind of blunder around her. She could give Nat a run for her money on how serious she took her movie and TV references.

All of that fell by the wayside however when Sam stumbled upstairs to his suite from Rory’s lab as dawn was just beginning to break over the skyline. He needed a few hours of sleep before they left. Driving on no sleep wouldn’t be safe for anyone.

He returned to the lab refreshed, the sleep and the massive cup of coffee he’d downed beforehand playing a major part in his newfound alertness. Tony was softly snoring in a lounge chair in the corner, his head lolling back against the headrest. Natasha and Rory still sat hunkered over a console speaking in hushed voices to keep from waking Tony up. Sam assumed the rest of the crew had called it a night and had retreated to catch a few z’s before he, Bucky, and Thor hit the road.

“How’s it coming?” he asked once he was close enough to speak at the same volume as they were.

Rory didn’t bother looking up. “We’re getting there. A couple more hours and we should be good to go.”

“What all have you added since I left?”

Natasha pushed away from the console and rubbed her eyes. “Youtube videos, enough TV shows to sink a battleship, and commentary from yours truly about what order he should watch things in to not miss any references.” She offered a small smile to him before her face fell into bone deep exhaustion. 

Rory stretched over an idle section of console. “I need sleep,” she moaned into the crook of her elbow.

“This was your damn idea,” Natasha griped.

Rory raised her head, her eyes struggling to stay open. “You didn’t have to help,” she retorted. 

Sam glanced between them. “I think you two need coffee. Rory, is your place stocked?”

She arched an eyebrow. “I’m Peanut, remember? You really have to ask?”

He chuckled. Fair point. “Come on then. Both of you. You can come back to this in a minute.” He hoisted Rory out of her chair. While he felt safe manhandling Rory, he wouldn’t touch Natasha. She’d probably rip him limb from limb.

Except she leaned against the arm he wasn’t using to hold Rory up so he at least offered her a little assistance in stumbling into Rory’s kitchen. Rory’s suite was smaller than anyone else’s in the Tower but she kept it homey. Off of her kitchen was a small dining room. Sam guided them to the table in the dining room and sat both Rory and Natasha down in chairs with a promise he’d be right back. And well, if he helped himself to another cup of coffee while he fixed theirs, who had to know?

He watched wide-eyed as Rory dumped half a canister of sugar in her cup after he handed it to her. “You like a little coffee with your sugar?”

Rory just hummed and gulped half her cup down, sigh contentedly as she did. “Something like that.”

Natasha just silently drank hers black.

“So what’s left?” 

Rory practically inhaled another gulp. “Just editing and finalizing the system. I thought we’d need Tony for that but Nat’s got enough computer expertise to put him out of business.”

“Gee, thanks,” Natasha groused.

“Hey! That was a compliment!”

Natasha threw the rest of her cup back. “Save it for when we get done. Let’s get this over with.” She pushed her chair back and walked into the kitchen to rinse out her glass.

The door leading out to the lab hisses open and closed as she headed back to work.

Sam turned to Rory. “You guys aren’t taking this well.” He didn’t have to say what “this” was.

Rory leaned back in her chair, pushing the front two feet off the ground. She fiddled with her hair. “Not really. Some of us just lost family, remember? Now, we’re losing you and Bucky and Thor as well?” 

Sam dragged over the chair Natasha had just vacated so he was sitting almost in front of her. “You’re not losing us, not like you lost your brother,” he assured her. “I think Bucky just needs some time on his own to come to grips with everything that’s happened. And you know Steve can’t let him go alone.”

She chuckled. “That’s putting it mildly.” 

Sam stood and offered her his hand. She took it and he helped her to her feet. “We won’t be gone too long. Something’ll happen and the world’ll need saving and we’ll be back.” When she side eyed him, he added, “Trust me on that.” She didn’t disagree with him but he didn’t quite have her convinced either. He grabbed their cups and went to wash them, leaving Rory fumbling and protesting behind him.

She joined him in the kitchen. “I can wash my own damn dishes. I’ve been a grown ass woman for a while now.”

Sam just laughed and backed away. He wasn’t about to argue with her on her own turf.

She rinsed the dishes out quickly and efficiently and dumped them unceremoniously in the dishwasher. “Okay, back to work.”

“We don’t want Natasha looking for us, do we?” Sam asked with a grin.

Rory’s face fell slack in true horror and Sam struggled to keep up with her when she dashed out of her suite into the lab.

***

Breakfast for Steve and Bucky that morning was strangely cheerful and loud. Granted, it wasn’t just Steve and Bucky crowded into Steve’s suite. Barton had arrived shortly after they’d woken up with three bags of groceries hanging from his arms, Pepper right behind him with a couple more bags. Neither bore any trace of the long night they’d had. The smell of bacon and sausage finally enticed Steve and Bucky to leave the comfort of Bucky’s bed, albeit very reluctantly, make themselves presentable, and head into the kitchen.

Bucky halted at the threshold into the kitchen, taking in the sight of Clint and Natasha squabbling like siblings over who made better bacon, Bruce making French toast while Rory bounced back and forth from the stove to the pantry for supplies. Sam, Hill, Tony, and Thor all sat at the bar having their own separate discussion.

Everyone was there.

“Hey, Banner,” Tony called out, “don’t burn the toast.” He smirked, not serious at all.

Rory threw back over her shoulder, “He wouldn’t have to worry about it if you didn’t keep interrupting him, you donut.”

Tony sucked in a breath and clutched his chest in mock hurt. “That was low, Toothless. That was low.”

Rory flashed a smile. “You’re right. You’re not Donut.”

Natasha joined in. “You’re Tucker.”

Sam, Rory, and Natasha said, in unison, “Bow-chicka-bow-wow.” They glanced at each other and burst out laughing.

Rory leaned across the counter and high-fived Sam. “RvB buddies!” 

Bucky glanced at Steve and saw the same smile splitting his face as Bucky knew was on his. They entered the room side by side and the conversations ceased just long enough for Bucky to remember this was because he was leaving.

Natasha broke the silence, a coy smile gracing her face. “We weren’t interrupting anything, were we?”

Tony had returned to his conversation with Thor but Bucky heard him mutter, “Bow-chicka-bow-wow.”

Sam choked on his coffee. Hill slapped him on the back while Rory doubled over, laughing her ass off. “Oh, yeah,” she confirmed, “definitely Tucker.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Bucky asked, bewildered. He checked with Steve but he was just as confused.

“Only the best series on the internet,” Sam replied.

Bucky slumped, the warmth of the moment seeping away. It was just another thing he’d missed, something he was sure he had no hope of catching up on.

He missed the glances being thrown around him, only looking up when Natasha cleared her throat. “We were planning on giving this to you a little later but I don’t think anyone’ll protest if we do this now?” She looked around for any dissent and, finding none, she crossed the room and retrieved a package. “This was a last minute idea we had for you-“

“-considering we didn’t get a chance to show you Jeff Dunham-“ Rory interrupted.

“-and we keep making references to things you haven’t seen-“ Tony added.

Natasha nodded at each point in turn. “-and that, much as you try to hide it, bothers you.” She handed the package to him. 

Bucky wrapped his metal hand around the box in brown paper. Carefully, he peeled back the paper and opened the cardboard box. A piece of equipment fell out into his flesh and bone hand.

“That’s a fully realized computer system,” Tony explained, “but mostly it’s a hard drive containing every movie, TV show, song, book, and piece of history or information we thought was important for you to have access to. Since Agent Texas and Private Simmons over here-“ he nodded at Natasha and Rory, Rory muttering darkly, “Not a kiss as,” “-have the most knowledge about pop culture, they sorted everything into some kind of order if you feel up to following that kind of thing.”

“To be fair,” Natasha warned, “we were working on this pretty late last night so you might just want to ignore that part. We did try to label everything we thought might be a bit triggering as well. Just in case.”

Bucky eyed the object in his hand in wonder. His mind had been through hell for the majority of the time he’d been alive so that could have been part of the reason it shut down at what Tony and Natasha were telling him but that wasn’t the only reason. No, his brain shut down because what sat comfortably in his palm was evidence of something he hadn’t thought possible, not after everything he’d done—been made to do, he reminded himself.

“Why did you do this?” he asked once he regained some semblance of brain function.

Bruce answered, “Because you have seventy years of stuff to catch up on.” She paused and took a deep breath. “And because you’re our friend.”

There it was. In just a couple of words, Bruce had managed to spell out exactly what Bucky meant to this strange, ragtag group of people.

It was a testament to how far Bucky had already come that he didn’t immediately come back with how he wasn’t good enough to be anyone’s friend. It wasn’t that he knew they would assure and reassure him to death after he said it either, even though they would and Bucky would have conceded anything under that kind of onslaught. No, these were people who’d busted their asses coming to rescue him and who had fought beside him, trusted in him when he couldn’t. What he held in his hand was the culmination of Sam’s attempts to get him to open up, Bruce’s vouching for his as their leader, Tony’s putting aside the anger and resentment to not only save his life but to put aside other projects to work on his arm, Rory and Pepper dragging the piano up from Rory’s suite in the middle of the night.

What could he say to that? How could he explain how much all this meant? How utterly different it was from how Hydra treated him?

No one seemed to need or expect him to say anything. He managed a “Thank you” and the room erupted in smiles. Bruce and Rory resumed dishing out breakfast and slid plates across the bar to everyone and they ate a quite breakfast, those sitting at the bar spinning around to face the living room and the rest finding open seats on the sofa and lounge chairs as they could. The only disturbance came when people passed the syrup and powdered sugar. More powdered sugar ended up on people than on the French toast, much to Steve’s dismay.

It ended far too soon and the reality that Bucky was leaving slammed into him, a physical punch that knocked the air from his lungs. He left to pack while everyone else cleaned up. 

Steve joined him after a few painfully silent moments. Neither said anything as Steve shut the door behind him or as they packed Bucky’s two duffel bags.

Bucky dropped the two full bags by the door.

“Bucky-“ Steve started.

Bucky turned from the door and waited for Steve to continue, to say whatever he was about to say, to ask him to stay, to tell him to be safe. Any or all of the above.

Steve had other plans. He crossed the room and kissed Bucky soundly, almost desperately. As Bucky’s mind blanked of everything that wasn’t Steve’s mouth against his, he heard everything Steve wanted to say and couldn’t. But neither said goodbye.

After Sam and Thor finished packing, the whole crew filed downstairs. Natasha and Rory stood by Steve as Sam and Thor loaded up the car. Bruce and the others watched from slightly further back, offering their support but not crowding anyone.

Natasha leaned close to Steve and murmured, “You know he left me a list on how to take care of you while he was gone.”

Steve chuckled. “That doesn’t surprise me but I slid a list of my own in Sam’s bag so we’re even.”

Natasha bit back a laugh and Rory glanced over at both of them, smirking.

Bucky glanced back at all of them, saw that Steve was distracted momentarily, nodded once, and climbed into the back seat.

Steve startled when the car doors slammed shut. He watched the car back out of the garage and drive through city traffic until it rounded a corner, until the last glimmer of its taillights vanished from his sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I am so sorry this took so long but moving- let's just say that I never, ever want to do it again. Ever. I never want to go outside in the Alabama heat and I never want to walk up or down another flight of stairs. That being said, ignore any spelling and grammar mistakes in this one. I'm a wee bit fried.
> 
> Thanks for putting up with my crazy life and thanks for reading, liking, commenting, etc. You guys are awesome!


	44. Chapter 44

Returning to life before Bucky Barnes proved far more difficult than anyone realized. There were three holes, three very distinct gaps in their lives and each person had to maneuver around them in the best way they could find.

Tony returned almost immediately to his lab, pouring all of his energy back into his projects. As long as he worked, he didn’t have to deal with the fact that he missed the kid. Surprisingly. Not to mention, he missed Wilson and Thor too for all that Thor was a bit of a stick in the mud to talk to sometimes and Sam was a bit too like Rhodey for comfort. Heaven only knew he didn’t need two of them in his life. It took Natasha and Pepper storming in at 3 in the morning about a week later, berating him for going off on his own, for him to emerge from the self-imposed seclusion.

He told himself it was more for Steve’s good than his. Natasha was far more worried about her friend than she let on. Though she hid it well, the fact that she brought up maybe letting Steve hang out in Tony’s lab betrayed her. Really? he thought, she wants him down here? Around me? And he told her as such.

She merely shrugged and pointed out that since he was working on a line of prosthetics based on Bucky’s tech, Steve should be involved.

Huh. Well, she had a point.

At the very least, he let them drag him up to Steve’s suite just to see how he was doing.

Tony survived about five minutes of restless, pacing Steve before he dragged the poor man back into his lab and sat him down in one of the very comfortable swivel chairs. “Okay, you get to help me for a bit,” he declared, pulling up the schematics of his latest project. 

Steve wheeled the chair closer, cautiously curious. “Because I’m going to be a huge help with whatever it is that you’re doing,” he pointed out.

Tony waved off the protest. “It doesn’t matter. You need a distraction and I need a second pair of eyes.”

“Wouldn’t Bruce or Rory be better at this?” 

Tony glanced over at Steve’s second attempt to flee back to his suite, probably to resume pacing listlessly. He just knew he would be able to hear that pacing through the multiple floors between them. Or at least he’d know Steve would be doing it. And it would be annoying. “Bruce would just nod whenever I asked a question and Rory’s eyes glaze over any time mechanical engineering is mentioned. Plus, if you aren’t distracted, a reliable source tells me you’ll start climbing the walls.” He hummed as he examined one view of what he was working on.

His words took a minute to fully sink in with Steve and Tony felt the room still when they did. He ventured a look behind him to check Steve’s reaction.

“He gave it to you too?” Steve asked, torn between amusement and exasperation.

Tony quietly let out his breath and hedged his bets. “He might have.” He assumed Steve was referring to something Bucky had given someone, presumably Natasha. “Not to mention you actually gave me a pretty good set of data just a bit ago.”

Steve just shook his head, a smile breaking out on his face and it wasn’t one he plastered on to hide something. He sighed and wheeled the chair even closer. “I guess I can’t argue with all of you. What exactly are you working on?”

Tony spent the majority of the next couple of days walking him through how he was taking Bucky’s prosthetic arm and using that technology to create his own line of state-of-the-art prosthetics. Especially for kids because, from what Tony could see, Hydra’s tech was specially designed to change size with the wearer.

After Rory and Bruce recovered from their all-nighter, they joined Tony and Steve in the lab, still working more than might have been healthy. Natasha had to come down, warily stepping around various mechanical remnants of old projects, to remind them to eat or sleep. If Steve didn’t immediately jump when she said, she brought up the list Bucky had left. That always got him moving. And it confirmed what Tony had suspected all along. 

Tony watched their interactions with some amusement. Focusing on Steve’s dealing with Bucky and Sam being gone allowed Tony to continue to ignore his own issues with the three holes in his life, the three empty chairs around the large table they now ate dinner around. Steve let Tony drag him around the lab despite all the bad blood between them—although, Tony felt that was mostly water under the bridge now—and Natasha was dragging Steve around anywhere else. 

They settled into a comfortable routine.

Rory finally finished rebuilding her lab and returned to her own research, although Tony still called her up for her opinions and insights on his project. He needed her expertise on nerve structure and how to connect mechanical nerves to actual nerves. When she wasn’t helping him, she continued her experiments on Steve and Bucky’s enhanced genetics. With all the excitement of Hydra’s attacks, she hadn’t had much of a chance to continue cataloging how their genetic cods had been changed. She saw a break in the action and took full advantage of it.

But she didn’t just have the empty spaces left by the three Avengers to deal with. She saw her brother everywhere she turned. Dancing through the machines in her lab like he always did, ready with a joke or some form of teasing. She’d turn her head when she caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye but he was never there, her memory of him fading as soon as she confronted it.

Steve eventually found her a few weeks later curled up against her bed, a picture of her and her brother together, happy, in her hands. He’d taken to wondering around the Tower a bit more, especially since Natasha had left on a matter of global security. Or so she’d said.

“I didn’t think I’d have to go through this again,” Rory murmured as he slid to the ground next to her. “Losing someone.” She turned the picture over and Steve saw both their names and the date scrawled on the back in handwriting that was neither hers nor her brother’s. “You see them everywhere, everywhere they’d been before.”

“And you turn to see them but when you do, they’re not there anymore,” Steve continued. “There’s a hole in your life that you keep trying to fill but you’re shoveling air and the more you try, the less it helps, until you feel like you can’t keep going.”

Rory chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I forgot you had some experience with that.” She flipped the picture again and stared at her and her brother. “Does it get easier? I mean, I know it’s not quite the same but…” Her voice trailed off in hopes he’d reply. She needed a reply, any reply.

Steve sighed before he answered. “I didn’t have a chance to process anything before I went under.” He took the photo from her hands. “At that point, it’d stopped hurting. I just felt empty.” The smile he gave her spoke of a pain she could certainly relate to. “When they woke me up…well, Loki didn’t give me a lot of time to recover.”

“Seeing Bucky Cap again must have felt like a punch in the gut.”

He chuckled, not only at her use of the nickname she’d given Bucky. “You have no idea.”

She exhaled through her mouth, drawing it out. “No, I don’t. Doubt I ever will. Nate may have had Extremis but even he couldn’t come back after that.”

“You’re not responsible for his actions,” Steve assured her.

“You know, I hear words coming out of your mouth but they’re not registering.” And they weren’t. She couldn’t believe she had no part in what happened with her brother.

Steve’s hand on her shoulder pulled her back to reality. “I mean it, Rory. He chose his own path.”

“And how much of that was based on what I did?” she countered. “Stark has a file on me. You ever read it?”

Steve shook his head. It was the answer she expected. 

“I asked him to keep me and my brother as low-profile as possible, especially after everything that happened last year with Aldrich. Anyone with Extremis was labeled a potential terrorist. So it’s not surprising you haven’t seen it.” With a grunt, she pushed herself off the ground. She slid the picture into a file folder tucked away in a drawer Steve doubted she opened very often. “Our parents died a few years ago. Car wreck.”

He offered her a sad smile as he stood to join her. “I lost both of my parents when I was young, younger than you are. I know how bad it messes with you.”

Rory glanced up sharply. “True, but I’m betting you didn’t kill them.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “No…”

“Well, we did. Or Nate did.” She hastened to assure him it wasn’t on purpose. “We were driving back from a concert. It was raining.” She paused, unable to continue. Steve waited for her to speak again, not pushing her. When she finally found her voice, she continued quietly. “Nate was driving. He hit standing water and he lost control. We careened into an intersection and got T-boned by an 18-wheeler. They told us our parents died on the scene.”

“What about you and your brother?”

“Stark told you what Extremis does?” she asked, expertly dodging the question.

“Somewhat.”

She nodded. “Then you have some idea why we chose to get it.” She let that subject drop and Steve didn’t pry further. It was pretty self-explanatory. “I’m sorry for dumping this on you. I know you’re still dealing with your own shit.”

“I could be wrong,” Steve started, “but I think that’s what family’s supposed to do for each other.” He left Rory to her thoughts. If he noticed her mouth hanging slightly ajar as he headed back to Tony’s lab, he said nothing of it.

The words resonated in Steve’s head on the brief walk and elevator ride. Family. Tony and Bruce glanced up as the door slid open, announcing his return.

“You were gone awhile,” Bruce noted, returning to his work.

Steve slid into a swivel chair with a sigh. “Rory.” He let the one word hang in the air. Both Bruce and Tony gave him their full attention then.

“She holding up okay?” Bruce asked.

“About as well as you could expect,” came the honest answer. “She’s handling it about as well as I handled Bucky, if that tells you anything.”

He missed the look shared between the two scientists. Bruce quietly removed himself from the lab, presumably to comfort his friend. That left Tony with Steve, a situation with which they were both becoming fairly comfortable.

“How are you holding up with that by the way?”

Steve suppressed the need to roll his eyes at the question. Tony really had a way with words. And timing. “I’m fine, Stark. Thanks for asking.”

Tony just shrugged Steve’s irritation off. Honestly, nothing seemed to bother him. “That’s why you’re still having nightmares then?” 

There was only one person who knew he was still waking up every night screaming. “Natasha,” Steve realized. “She told you.”

Again, Tony shrugged. “She had to leave someone in charge of keeping an eye on you while she’s out of the country. What with her and Sam and Bucky gone…” He waved his hand. “And Bruce with his hands full with Rory,” he added with a grimace. “Well, that only leaves me, Barton, and Hill.”

“I think I’d be better off on my own,” Steve commented, only half joking.

Tony pointed a screwdriver at him. “That was uncalled for.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “No more uncalled for than your laboratory experiment comment.”

“You will never let me live that down will you?” Tony shook his head and clutched his chest. “I’m hurt, Rogers. I’m really hurt.”

Steve shook his head. Tony could add more drama to any situation than it called for. And, not that he would tell him this but Steve was grateful Tony was willing to keep an eye on him while Natasha was away.

Who was he kidding? Natasha probably threatened Tony with grievous bodily harm if he didn’t. He actually smiled at the thought and managed to have a semi-civilized conversation with Tony. It might have even helped him. Just a little.

The word he told Rory came back to him. Family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap. Guys, I am so, so, so sorry for taking so long with this. The entire moving process (remodeling, repainting, moving, shopping, everything) took close to 7 weeks and completely drained any and all energy I had. Thankfully, that's almost, almost, done. Unfortunately, I didn't get this done before school started (it started yesterday and it's very different from undergrad. I'm still getting used to it) so updates will still be random.
> 
> Please don't be too mad at me. As always, thanks for reading, commenting, etc. etc.


	45. Chapter 45

Sam’s house was nothing like Stark’s tower. For one thing, Bucky could keep his feet at or near ground level at all times, something that oddly came as a great comfort to him. Maybe it had something to do with a fear of heights, not that he would acknowledge any idea where that came from. And he was used to large, sprawling floors. The narrow confines for Sam’s place led to several bumps and bruises when he ran into furniture. 

It gave Sam an interesting glimpse into the vast vocabulary of an angry ex-super assassin. When Bucky cared to swear in English anyway.

By the end of the first week, Bucky sported several black, blue, and greenish spots on both his legs. Those didn’t take into account the injuries he sustained from waking up from nightmares. None of his injuries bothered him but he quietly refused to talk about the nightmares that contributed to what was slowly becoming a knockoff Jackson Pollock painting.

Sam waited as long as he thought he could before coming to a decision. Bucky needed help that he couldn’t provide. He ran groups with the VA, groups he had resumed leadership of upon returning to DC, but Bucky needed one-on-one care with someone he didn’t have a personal connection to.

He needed objectivity more than a soldier’s camaraderie.

Sam asked around for someone who might fit the bill. One of veterans in his group mentioned a name Sam had heard but wasn’t overly familiar with. Doctor Joseph Thompson worked through the VA but he also had his own private practice. Without too much fuss, and after discussing the situation with Thor, he convinced Bucky to at least go and speak to him.

Sam and Thor dropped Bucky off for the first appointment. Sam circled the block to find a parking space but neither he nor Thor followed Bucky into the building. They sat outside on a bench, relaxing in the chilling, late autumn air. They’d be there when Bucky got out for support or distraction as the need arose.

Bucky entered the small waiting room and uncomfortably filled out the required paperwork. Tony had more than taken care of his health insurance before he left. One less thing to worry about, Tony had said. In its own way, Tony’s help only made him feel worse. 

The receptionist and the two other patients in the room watched him as he sat down. He pulled his jacket closer and self-consciously tugged his sleeve down over his arm.

Sam seemed to have forgotten they weren’t unknowns anymore. People knew who he was. That, more than anything, Bucky hated. He made sure not to make eye contact with any of them.

The other patients were called back before him. For a bit, a few moments of sweet relief, he was the only person in the room and the receptionist paid him no mind. That was all right with him but as time marched on, he found himself wondering why he was even here. Why had he let Sam talk him into this? No one here would be able to understand him or what he went through. He couldn’t be helped.

He gripped the sides of the chair to hoist himself up when the door in the back of the waiting room opened to reveal a middle-aged man with untidy, dirty blond hair. Bucky froze like a deer in headlights but the man gave no indication he’d noticed what Bucky had been about to do.

He glanced up from his chart and called out, “James Barnes.” 

Bucky eyed him a little differently now that he had a face to match with the voice he’d spoken with over the phone. He stood and approached the doctor somewhat cautiously. The response surprised him, gave him a slight pause. It’d been several weeks since… but then what Hydra had done to him, maybe it would never leave. Maybe he’d always respond to new people, new situations, with shadows of the Winter Soldier.

The first question came as the doctor led him back from the waiting room: “So…how are you doing today?” 

Bucky eyed him warily and refrained from answering. He hadn’t felt this on edge since before the fight in Stark’s Tower. “Okay,” he finally admitted.

The doctor sighed but didn’t act at all surprised. “This isn’t going to be very productive if you don’t contribute more than that.” He motioned Bucky into an examination room and Bucky had to take a moment to look around and steady himself. It wasn’t anything like what he expected. Instead of a chair—images of the chairs Hydra trapped him in flashed unbidden before his eyes—in the middle of the room, a large sofa spread across the far wall. Opposite that sat two reclining chairs.

“This is different.” The words came out clipped, hesitant.

That got him a nod of understanding. “It’s supposed to be. Oh, and before we get started, don’t bother calling me Dr. Thompson. That’s too formal. Doc Joe or just plain Doc works just fine for me,” Doc Joe explained, sinking into one of the reclining chairs. When Bucky made no move to sit, he added, “I try not to bite. Besides, the sofa’s gotta be more comfortable than standing up.”

Bucky reluctantly sat but once he’d settled, even he had to admit the sofa was comfortable.

Doc Joe steepled his hands and leaned against them. “You know, all things considered, why don’t we start with introductions. I know quite a bit about you because you know how the media always tells the truth.” He winked. “But you know nothing about me so…let’s fix that.” He briefly and thoroughly detailed his life and Bucky felt slightly more at ease with him when he finished. “This wasn’t all your idea, was it?” Doc Joe asked gently.

“Not completely.”

Doc Joe nodded. “Good to know.” In response to the confused look Bucky gave him, he explained, “I like to know where my patients are coming from. It helps me know where we’re going.” He leaned back in his chair and examined Bucky for a minute. “So why are you here? I got a little bit from talking to you on the phone but…”

Bucky swallowed the remainder of his unease and answered to the best of his ability. He stumbled over words at the start because he hadn’t really thought about that question coming in. It was something he just accepted, that he needed this. But as he told Doc about the nightmares, the mood swings, the memory lapses, the reasoning solidified in his own mind.

During the conversation, he mentioned Sam and Doc’s eyes lit up. “Good old Sam Wilson. How’s he doing?”

“He’s friends with people who have no regard for their own safety and his job now is probably more dangerous than his time in the army.”

Doc threw his head back and laughed. “Well, he never could stay away from all that. Good on him.” He glanced at his watch. “One last question and I’ll let you go for today. What do you enjoy doing?”

“I was a scientific experiment for an organization bent on world domination. They weren’t concerned with what I enjoy doing.” Bucky tossed Doc’s wording back at him with more than a little venom.

“True,” Doc conceded, “but you’ve been back with us for a while now if I understood you correctly. Is there nothing you’ve found since then that you do just for you? Just for your enjoyment?”

Bucky’s fingers twitched, remembering cleaning and calibrating weapons long before remembering dancing across piano keys. He curled both hands into fists. The motion wasn’t lost on Doc. 

“Do me a favor and try to find something by next week. It’ll be something we can discuss.”

Bucky bit back any confusion at Doc suggesting they meet again at all, much less after one week.

Doc picked up on it anyway. “I know,” he agreed, “that’s not a lot of time but it’s better to meet more often early on and get everything out so we can work on it.”

“I thought it was because you couldn’t get enough of my charming personality,” Bucky remarked drily.

Doc barked out a laugh. “So there is a sense of humor in there.” He extended a hand for Bucky to shake. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you today, Mr. Barnes.”

“Bucky,” came the correction before Bucky could think about it. Once the word was out, he had nowhere to go but forward. “Call me Bucky.”

Based on Doc’s reaction, it had been a meaningful step forward.

“Bucky then. This time next week work for you?”

Bucky assured him it was and he left the session more hopeful than he’d been in a very long time.

Subsequent sessions didn’t end as well. Doc Joe never once dove straight into the trauma that defined Bucky’s life. He poked around at the edges, picking away a little bit of damage each time they talked. Sam learned very quickly how to help Bucky through those bad days. Thor never said anything but he lent his presence when he could.

The anniversary of Tony’s parents’ death came ten weeks into Bucky’s therapy. Doc Joe found him regressed to how he acted during their first meeting: reticent and quick to anger. When he tried to get Bucky to open up, all Bucky said was, “It’s my fault.”

“What’s your fault?” Doc asked gently. The glare Bucky leveled at him was so cold and devoid of emotion, he suppressed a shiver.

“You ever killed someone, Doc?” Bucky replied, dodging the question. The expression on his face didn’t change, making his words all the more terrifying. “Because I have. I killed in the war because the Army told me to. I killed after the war because Hydra told me to.”

Doc studied his patient, how his shoulders slumped forward, how he couldn’t look him in the eye. ‘Why tell me this today?”

“I killed two people today, twenty-three years ago.” He worded the statement like a briefing. Cold and detached.

The date triggered something in Doc’s memory, a news report on the death of two very prominent figures. “The Starks.”

Bucky nodded. “Howard and Maria Stark.” He laughed, the sound grating unpleasantly. “I knew Howard, you know? He designed almost everything we took into the field. He kept us alive. And I killed him, his wife, and left their son orphaned.” With a shake of his head, he added, “That’s gratitude for ya.”

“None of that is your fault, Bucky.”

The smile that appeared on Bucky’s face wasn’t a happy one. “So everyone keeps telling me. Fuck, even Tony told me that. The hell I put him through and he forgave me? Who does that?”

Doc took a minute to collect his thoughts. The amount of guilt Bucky carried on his shoulders was enormous for someone so young. “So you feel that every death you caused is your fault?”

“They are my fault,” Bucky insisted.

“I would argue that they aren’t.” Before Bucky could open his mouth to protest, Doc cut him off. “Hear me out, all right?” He waited for Bucky to nod before he continued. “Let’s look at an example. A fifteen year old boy is abandoned by his mother and her abusive boyfriend and after three days of no food, he sells himself on the street in order to survive. Who’s at fault?”

“The mom and the boyfriend,” Bucky replied with no hesitation.

Doc nodded, contemplating his next example. “Now imagine a woman’s husband and child are kidnapped and the kidnappers threaten to kill them if the woman doesn’t do exactly what they say. They make her rob a bank and in the process she shoots and kills a bank guard. Would you tell her that death is her fault?”

Bucky recoiled. “No! Of course not!”

“Ok, one more example then. Imagine a soldier captured by the opposing army. They torture him physically, mentally, emotionally. They break him.” He shook his head. “Worse, they erase him. What they make him do is horrifying. Are those things his fault?”

For once Bucky hesitated and Doc knew he’d gotten his point across. “I want you to picture that man,” he said, examining Bucky closely as he did. ‘What would you say to him? Would you tell him all of that was his fault?”

Bucky held his gaze only a second before bowing his head. His shoulders shook with quiet sobs.

That was answer enough.

Doc switched from his reclining chair to sit beside Bucky on the sofa. He laid a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “The people responsible for deaths of Howard and Maria Stark have paid for them. So have the people responsible for what happened to you.”

Bucky gritted out through haggard breaths, “Then why does it feel like it’s all on me?”

Doc chuckled. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. It just means you’re human.” It was not as comforting a statement as it was intended to be so he tried a different tactic. “What would help you work through it?”

“I thought figuring that out was your job,” Bucky commented wryly.

Doc stood up and crossed the room. “Normally, I’d agree with you but you’re not a typical patient. And you know you better than anyone.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So what are you going to do about it?”

A long moment passed in silence. When Bucky finally spoke, he spoke quietly with growing determination. “There are things I remember…weapons left in the field, people I helped train- threats that are still out there. If I can eliminate even a few of those, I think it would help.” He looked up at Doc.

“That’s a good first step but there’s more to reclaiming who you are than erasing your past. I want you to remember that.”

Doc walked Bucky out to the waiting room. Before Bucky left, Doc shook his hand. “I’m guessing you won’t be back for a while but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

Bucky smiled. “Thanks for everything.” He paused before adding, “I think.” He turned to leave but hesitated by the door. “Hey, Doc. You never did ask me about what I liked to do.”

Doc shrugged. “That was just for your benefit. We can talk about it when you get back.” 

Although he couldn’t stake his professional career on it, Doc felt certain that when Bucky next walked through those doors, he’d be much further along in finding himself again. And that was more than a win in his book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one didn't take quite as long to get out. Life's settled down some and classes are in full swing.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed this one. As always, thanks for reading, commenting, liking, etc. etc. And thanks for sticking with me. We'll get this finished someday. Eventually.
> 
> Maybe....


End file.
